


Bittersweet- a Frank Castle fanfiction

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fanfic, Fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-01-10 15:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12301785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Amidst the unravelling of a criminal plot, you meet Frank Castle and navigate the difficult waters of a meaningful relationship.Your story begins when he fights off your attackers in the dead of night, in the cold city of New York. From there, it’s a rollercoaster of dangerous situations and bursting emotions.





	1. Ice Cold Beers

# Bittersweet

**Hells Kitchen, New York 10:56pm ******  
You sigh into the cold night air, watching your breath disappear as you inhale the smell of fumes.  
Hells Kitchen is particularly icy in autumn, but you love it, the sights of crisp leaves on the ground and the crunch of them underneath your shoes gets you more excited than any other season does.  
Stuffing the chocolate bars you just bought into your bag, you pull your coat tighter around you silently cursing as a breeze hits your bare legs under your dress. You already regret wearing heels, the pain in your feet setting in already.  
It would have been worth it, had both of your friends not cancelled on your night out when you were already at the nightclub.  
However, you were determined to have a good night, your plan was to watch a nice film with some wine and chocolate. Having a quiet night in always lifted your spirits.  
Usually most things for you never go to plan.  
You power walked across the road, quickly checking for cars. Taking the shortcut through the alleyway would get you home quicker.  
As you rounded the corner, you smacked head first into a man. You mumbled an apology and tried to scurry away as soon as possible.  
"Not so fast." He grabs you and pins you against the wall, his glare illuminated by the streetlights. You stared at him directly.  
Panic rose up inside your ribs, but you were determined not to let that show.  
"Listen, I've had a really shitty day today alright? If you let me go I can move on with my life and we can pretend like this never happened." You were becoming breathless, and the man tilted his head towards your shoulder.  
"I don't think so lady," he growls, snatching your purse from your right shoulder, still pinning you to the wall with his other hand.  
Panic-stricken, you attempt to come up with ways out. Make a run for it? Yell for help? Kick him in the balls?  
Your hand curls up into a fist, all those self defence classes finally coming together to prove some good.  
It takes less than a second for your thought of punching the man to become a reality. Your fist connects with his face and a cracking sound cuts through the air. Blood spurts out of his nose and he stumbles backwards, dropping your purse to the floor.  
You quickly leap forward, snatch your bag from the ground and just before you attempt to make a getaway, you feel cold metal press against the back of your head and the safety of a gun click.  
"Turn around. Slowly." You did as he asked. Turing around revealed a heavily tattooed face, riddled with intimidation.  
"You have to be shitting me right now," you murmur. The situation couldn't have gotten any worse.  
"She punched me! Holy shit, I think she broke my nose. That bitch!" The other man stumbled over, clutching his face and moaning in pain.  
"Hey princess, you'll be fine," you say, your voice laced with sarcasm.  
The guy with a gun gives you a glare before speaking, "Shut your damn mouth missy!"  
He then turns to face his partner, who is uttering curse words under his breath.  
"I know she punched you Paul. I can see that. Maybe if you had watched her closely we could have avoided this whole fucking situation!" He barked. "It doesn't matter anyway. We can have some fun with her now." He smiles, flicking his eyes from your chest to your bare legs and sending shivers along your spine.  
This is it, you thought. All those days dreading something terrible like this would happen and now it has.  
Out of the corner of your eyes you see a figure ducking into the shadows, a metal pipe in hand. Your breath catches in your throat as another guy emerges.  
"I don't think so fellas." The mysterious gravelly voice echoes in the alleyway. They turn to face him and the man with the gun suffers a blow to the head with the pipe, falling to the floor unconscious.  
The figure drops the pipe to the ground with a huge clatter and charges at the other guy, shoving him up against the wall before smacking his head on the dumpster a couple of times before he too, falls unconscious.  
You stand there in shock, mouth agape staring at your saviour. You can see him now, the eery light casting a glow on his face.  
He has a scruffy beard with long hair and his nose is obviously broken. His chest is heaving from the fight sending warm clouds of breaths into the air.  
"Holy mother of God," is all you can utter, the words falling short of the gratitude you feel.  
He lets out a small laugh, "you're welcome." His voice sends your stomach into knots, leaving a light blush on your face.  
"Y-yes. Thank you is what I meant."  
He looks at you with an intrigued expression, exhales and starts to walk past you. You reach out and grab his arm. His eyes lock onto yours.  
"You didn't think I'd just let you walk away without buying you a drink first did you?" You look at him from under your eyelashes, blinking twice.  
He narrows his eyes at you, a humorous look appearing on his face, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. He looks down the alley, before looking back at you with big brown eyes.  
"I guess not."  
You stick your hand out. "I'm Y/N." he cautiously takes you hand and shakes it.  
"Frank."

  
The warmth of the rustic bar envelopes you, the strong smell of whiskey hitting the back of your throat. You push down the strong urge to cough and make your way over to the bar and slide onto a stool.  
"What will it be?" The bored looking bartender asks you, tapping her fingers on the counter.  
"What do you want Frank?" You ask, he gives a quick glance over the drinks menu.  
"I'll have whatever you have."  
"Two beers then please." She nods and walks away.  
You shrug off your coat, dropping it to you feet. You turn to Frank and notice him watching you intensely, his eyes examining every curve, but stopping just before your chest. He makes eye contact with you and watches you blush with a smirk. You bite your lip.  
"See something you like?" You tease. This isn't normally like you, being confident and flirty with a guy. But just something about him made you feel daring.  
He chuckles. "Just wondering why you're all dressed up darlin', s'all." The bartender comes back and places your drinks on the counter. You pick yours up and take a sip.  
"Well Frank, if you really must know, I was going to a nightclub but my friends ended up cancelling on me last minute."  
He whistles. "Ouch, that must've hurt."  
"More than I would care to admit."  
"Is that why you were alone in an alleyway?" He looks us at you from his drink. Fuck. You can't ignore how his gaze makes you feel.  
You clear your throat. "Yeah, I was hoping to make it home quickly and quietly. Obviously that didn't work." You let out a sigh.  
He chuckles again. "Obviously." There is a moment of silence before you speak again.  
"So mister Frank, what were you doing out there? You normally enjoy long walks through Hells Kitchen at the dead of night to save damsels in distress?" You run your finger around the rim of your glass and take another sip.  
Frank laughs into his beer and puts it down. "Firstly I do quite enjoy long walks at night-"  
"Oh really?" You say with face of mock surprise.  
"Yes really," he says with a grin, "and second of all, I hardly think you were a damsel. You were handling them pretty well."  
You scoff. "If you call throwing a punch and witty comebacks 'handling them' them I'm your girl."  
Frank gives you a sly look. "Then maybe you are my girl. I'll call you if I need any sarcastic remarks sweetheart." He takes a swig of beer.  
"Yeah, sure you do that." You gesture to him with your glass. There is brief pause before you look at Frank again, your voice sincere.  
"Thank you again Frank. I really don't know what would have happened if you hadn't have shown up."  
He looks at you, a feeling of surprise in his eyes. Maybe he never gets thanked for the things he does?  
"I uh, I was just doing what was necessary. That's all. You don't gotta thank me for thank me for that." He stares down at his beer and looks back to you, and you can tell your words have affected him, as the corners of his mouth turn into a small smile. It's small, but it's definitely there.  
A couple drinks later and the world is slightly fuzzy.  
"So what do you do for a livin'?" Frank asks, the weight of his gaze on you makes you feel uneasy, yet excited.  
"I'm an interior designer. Mostly for the more well off population of Hells Kitchen." You take a couple of quick breaths as Frank leans back, his shirt exposing his chest.  
"Wow. Bet you get a lot of snobs." Frank looks at you sideways and takes a swig of his drink.  
"Oh boy, yeah we get tons. Everything you do is wrong, even when you advise them on something. They, they uh look at you like you just shit in their cereal." You giggle.  
Frank cracks a laugh, you hadn't seen him smile like that all night.  
"Sounds stressful. Was tonight supposed to be a lot of fun for you? I don't mean to pry, but it just looks to me like you're up to your up to your eyeballs in work." He gestures with his head to your bag with two folders crammed into it. "You normally take your work to the club?" He scratches his beard in thought.  
You chuckle nervously. "I didn't even know those were in there to be honest," you admitted hanging your head, "it's like you said. I've been working pretty much constantly for the past two weeks. Tonight was supposed to be my stress reliever, looks like it's kinda gone now."  
"Mm sweetheart I wouldn't say that." He moves his leg, brushing your leg as he does so. He looks at you, smirking again.  
You part your lips and stare at him for a bit, watching the lines on his face change. Your heartbeat quickens and your cheeks flush. He looks at you, waiting for a response. The drinks have gone too your head and suddenly you don't feel shy anymore.  
You reach your hand out and touch his knee, leaning towards his ear you whisper:  
"Wanna come back to my place?"  
You pull back and look in his eyes, his breath hot on your cheek. Frank takes in the look on your face and licks his lips.  
"I sure fuckin do baby." 

  
Theres a brief feeling of calm and peace, a wonderful sensation of the morning sunshine hitting your skin and sinking in, warming your body from the inside out.  
The curtains on the windows are slightly pulled back, giving you a breathtaking view of the city bathed in yellow light.  
Your thoughts wander to last night and you remember Frank. His laugh, his smile and his callous wandering hands against your soft skin. He was a sweetheart, yet fiery; leaving a trail of burning kisses, being gentle yet rough.  
You feel the body next to you stir and half awake Frank rolls over and snakes an arm round your waist, burying his face in your neck, the feeling of his beard brushing against your skin.  
A grin widens on your face and you feel Frank move his head up to look at you, then drop back onto the pillow.  
"Whatcha smilin' at?" He mumbles into your hair. You let out a happy sigh and sink further into his embrace.  
"Oh, it's nothing." You dismiss the smile while you smooth the creases on the sheets, breathing in the heavy scent of Franks cologne.  
"Sure don't seem like nothin," he says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "What time is it?"  
You glance over at the clock on your beside table. "Eight thirty-six." He lets out a long sigh and nuzzles your neck.  
"Fuck. Sorry baby, I gotta go." You feel your stomach drop. Already? So soon? Questions plague your mind as to what you could've done wrong. You've only known this guy for a night, but you already feel attached to him in some kind of unexplainable way.  
He slides off the bed slowly, and you hear his footsteps echo against the floorboards. You sit up and watch him get dressed, his muscles contracting as he pulls his shirt on. You press your lips togther and ignore the want to tackle him to the floor and repeat last night.  
"Do you have to go now?" You sheepishly ask, voice laced with disappointment. He sits on the end of the bed and you crawl forward and sit behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his back.  
"Yeah, unfortunately. I got some work to do this morning." You listen to his breathing and feel his chest rise and fall. The rumble of his voice in his chest brings you comfort, you feel safe close to him and you worry the feeling of safety will leave when he does.  
"What kind of work? Could you possibly spare this work for a morning in the shower with me?" You tease, hoping to gain a reaction and craning your neck in time to see Frank smile.  
"Believe me darlin', there is nothing, and I mean nothing, I would like to do more this morning. A shower with you sounds," he takes a breath and closes his eyes,"fucking amazing. But I really gotta get going. I got... research." He winces at the word and furrows his eyebrows.  
You kiss his scruffy bearded jaw and run your hand up his back and through his hair, and he almost leans into your touch with a sharp intake of breath. You sit there for a while, watching Frank take pleasure in your touch. His shoulders slump and he breathes a sigh of relief and you see him completely relax.  
You don't want to move, but the minutes ticking by indicate you need to get ready for work. Tentatively, you retract your hand from his hair and kiss his ear.  
"Lets go then, Franky baby." You get up and put on a dressing gown, looking back to see Frank watching you with heavy gaze, lips twitching.  
You slowly put your dressing gown on over your bare body, dragging the fabric over your skin while keeping your eyes on Frank. He mouths the word 'shit' and runs his hands down his face.  
You can see him deep in thought, the idea of staying was extremely enticing. And oh God did you want him to stay.  
"You're not making this easy sweetheart." He rubs his beard.  
"Good." You say with some finality, hoping to spark something in him.  
He gives you one last glance before regretfully pulling himself off of the bed and into the hallway, boots clunking. Frank grabs his coat and slings it over his shoulder in one swift motion.  
He unlocks and opens the door and turns to face you.  
"What do I do if I want to call you Frank?" You ask, arms crossed over your chest watching him from under your hair. He reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead.  
"I'll call you." He smirks and saunters off and you watch him leave. Then you realise.  
"But you don't have my number!" You call out. He turns around and tilts his head looking at you.  
"I don't need your number." He replies confidently, turning around walking off.  
"What do you mean? Frank!" You sound desperate but you don't care.  
He gives you a wide grin, his eyes sparkling.  
He disappears down the stairs, his footfalls becoming more and more soft until they're non-existent.  
You sigh and unfold your arms, closing the door, and sliding down it until you hit the cold floor. Shit, that feels like a permanent goodbye.  
The wood feels rough beneath your hands as you hit the ground in irritation and you lean your head back.  
You're convinced you'll never see him again.  
But who knows?  



	2. Smooth Jazz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You bump into Frank at a charity auction night and something goes terribly wrong...

# Bittersweet

**Hells Kitchen, New York 8:45pm**  
"Tina listen, if he wanted to get to know me he would have called!" You exclaim, shaking your head at your friend on the other end of the line. "Its been five days. I've given up waiting for him. It was only a one night stand."  
"Didn't sound like that, the way you were talking about him girl. How could you let an amazing man like that slip through your fingers!"  
You let out a loud exasperated sigh, "I know. I should have insisted to see him for coffee again or something."   
"Coffee huh? Just coffee?"  
"Tina!" You scolded, her burst of giggles ringing in your ears.  
You look up at the gatherings of small groups in front of you. "Listen Tina, I really have to go. I can't be late. I'll talk to you soon."  
"Ok sweetie. Be safe and for the love of God have fun! I really am praying for you to run into that guy again." You roll your eyes.  
"Bye Tina." You can hear her laughter echoing down the line as you hit the end call button and slide your phone into your jacket pocket.  
You stop and stare at the huge fancy banner displayed above the door that reads 'CHARITY AUCTION NIGHT'.   
The musical notes from inside the glass building floating outside carried by the wind, lulling your ears. The clack of your heels on the pavement sent a shiver of excitement into your fingertips.  
Showing your invite to the stern faced doorman, you enter the auction house and are immediately greeted by the warmth and orange tone of lighting.   
Slipping your coat off, you hang it on one of the hooks by the entrance and walk into the main hall.   
The lights brightly illuminate the sparkling chandeliers and heavy jewellery worn by many of the women. The swirling marbled floor was busy with the soft swaying of dancers, both young and old, their smiles gleaming.  
The ring of calm chatter and soft clinking of glasses brings comfort to you and you breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of expensive wine and enjoying the relaxed live music being played.  
"Ah! Y/N you made it!" Turning slightly, you recognise the familiar face of Chester Langfield, one of your previous clients. He is a short, well-dressed man with a red face. Chester scuttles over to greet you, outstretching his hands and gesturing wildly to you.  
"Come along everyone, I would like you to meet the best interior designer for Dawn Design. She will be representing her company tonight, as it is a highly paying sponsor. Y/N is also the woman who re-designed my whole house! She really has the patience of a saint, this one." He reaches out for your hand and you take his, and he shakes it multiple times.   
"I think it was you with the patience of a saint Chester! You are the one, after all who sat through with me with those wallpaper samples." He holds his stomach as he lets out a raspy chuckle.  
One male couple and three women gather round him and you, all reaching out to shake your hand. Their outfits were probably from highly expensive label brands, none of which you could remember or even pronounce for that matter.  
You spend several minutes in a painful conversation, nodding along and laughing. Being around this many influential people at once made you nervous, they always seemed so well put together and, well, fake.  
You're trying to think of ways out of this situation until you spot a familiar face loitering on the balcony, the reflection from the glass bouncing a spectral splay of colour onto his stern face.  
Is that... Frank? No, it couldn't possibly be.  
"So where did you get that dress? It looks lovely. Y/N? Hello?" The shrill and irritating woman's voice snaps you out of your trance and you look at the blank expression on her face. You clear your throat.  
"Um, excuse me everyone. I just have to, uh, go to the bathroom." You quickly shuffle off, leaving everyone behind you in muffled shock. Your steps are constricted slightly by your dress, so you quicken you pace, keeping your eyes on Frank as he rests his elbows on the railing. He surveys the area, and obviously has not noticed you at all, his focus was more with the opposite side of the room.  
Halting to a stop at the edge of the stairs, you catch your breath and pull a strand of wispy hair from your eyes.   
He seems to be watching someone, or something, his eyes flitting quickly over the clusters of snobby gossiping and giggling.  
What is he doing here? Is he here with someone? That last thought sends a pang of jealousy into your stomach and you wonder if you should talk to him after all. Fuck it. What have you got to lose?   
You wander over and stand next to him, he gives you a quick glance before slowly registers it's you and stands up to face you. He's wearing a grey suit with a white shirt, the top button undone. He's had a hair cut, now its neatly shaved at the back and sides and his beard has been trimmed down.  
"Thats a nice look for you. You no longer look like a homeless man." He just stands there, a bit baffled by the looks of it.  
"What? You're not calling me baby no more?" You tease, putting your hands on your hips a smug expression growing on your face.   
You see the corners of his mouth turn up and he scratches his beard.  
"Well if it isn't Y/N. What're you doin' here?"  
"I could ask you the same think Mr.Castle. Better yet, why didn't you call me?" You didn't mean for it to sound like a needy accusation, it just kind of came out like that.  
His shoulders lowered, tipping his head forward.  
"Touché," he pauses for a second taking in your annoyed facial expression before looking you up and down. The way his eyes wander over every inch of you body, like he was trying to picture you naked, made the tips of your toes tingle with delight. You try to shake the feeling, but it's proving difficult with the way he's watching you.  
"I really did want to call. I just thought it best if I didn't."   
"And why would you think that?" You scoff. It's bad enough you were practically lying in wait for his call the past few days, replaying that nights events over and over in your brain. Now it seems he was never interested in you.  
"Its complicated."  
You laugh sarcastically and close your eyes for a second. Complicated. You've heard that excuse before, and its never good for you.  
"Bullshit." He looks almost hurt for a second, and shifts his posture uncomfortably.  
"Listen Frank, I don't anything from you. If you didn't want to see me again, then just tell me. I'm a big girl, I can handle rejection."  
"What?" Frank moves closer to you, until he's face to face and he reaches out his hand to hold yours, but you pull away. His face twitches, a look of remorse starting to develop.  
"Of course I wanted to see you again sweetheart. There's just a lot of shit goin' on in my life at the moment. I- I didn't want you to get caught up in it." He pauses, pursing his lips, hoping to see a reaction from you. "I didn't want you to get hurt.   
Y/N you gotta believe me." He crouches lower and tilts his head up to meet your eyes, regret shining in them. You tap your heel on the ground and can't help the fact you want to believe him. He seems so... honest?  
"Y/N?" A voice calls out softly behind you. What now? Who the fuck could this possibly be?  
You turn and gasp slightly.  
"Thomas?" Your ex-boyfriend, of all the people to show up at this moment.  
"Hey you remember! Gosh its been so long, like what, three months? How've you been doing?" He looks very neat and tidy in a suit, and his hair slicked back with gel. His arrogant persona still hasn't changed, you can see that from his huge grin and complete ignorance.  
"Just fine without you thanks."  
"Theres that fiery personality I loved. You look fantastic by the way. You wanna grab a drink or something? It would be like old times." He licks his lips and stares at you.  
"Whos this guy?" Frank growled slightly, his fingers lingering above your hip, barely making contact with the fabric of your dress as he stands directly behind you. He's so close you can almost feel the scratch of his beard against your ear.  
Thomas flicks his eyes up nervously at Frank, his towering body flush against yours.  
You heave a sigh. "Frank, this is Thomas. Thomas is my ex." At that last word Frank grips you waist tightly and pulls you back slightly. Was he jealous?  
"Frank huh? You her boyfriend or something?" Thomas sniffs and scratches his nose in annoyance.  
"And what if I was?" Frank says, quite aggressive in his tone.  
"He's not," you clarify, and Frank makes a growl. Ignoring him, you continue:"it still shouldn't matter to you anyway  
"Come on Y/N, don't be like that."  
"Like what?"  
"Like you always get."  
"Excuse me? What, did you just think I'd welcome you back with open arms or somethin'?"  
"Well, no, I just thought we could have a polite conversation and act like adults. Put the past in the past."  
"Hey man, can't you see she doesn't want to talk to you? Back off." Franks snarling voice cut through you, and you jump. Frank takes no notice and continues to stare at Thomas.  
"What are you, her lapdog? Don't you know who you're talking to?" Thomas demands.  
"Yeah, I know exactly who I'm talking to. An asshole. And I don't give a shit about your damn status or however much money you earn at your lowlife job.”  
Thomas opens his mouth, his face contorted into pure anger, before you speak.  
"Thomas could you please, shut your damn mouth? You can't say shit, especially after Greece." Immediately after saying that you regret it.  
"Greece? What happened in Greece?" Franks attention was captured almost immediately, his voice sounded insistent.  
"Its none of his damn business thats what." Thomas snapped.  
“You know what Thomas? I don’t need this right now, or ever for that matter. Just do me one goddamn favour and leave right now. I don’t want to talk to to you or have a drink with you and certainly do not want to pretend like nothing ever happened. So please, beat it, before me or macho man over here give you some serious bruises.” Your body shudders as you let out a weighted sigh, and Frank rubs soothing circles with his thumb over your free hand.  
Thomas glares at Frank, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. He opens his mouth to say something, but after the daggers you shoot him he storms off down the stairs and disappears into the crowd.  
"Y/N tell me what happened." Frank whispers, squeezing your hip in support and moving to face you properly.  
“You really wanna know?” You ask, confused.  
Frank nods his head, “if that’s fine with you of course.” You purse your lips and shift your posture, leaning onto the railing.  
“Psh, well ok if you really want to know cowboy,” he looks at you reassuringly, a small smile tugging at his lips.  
“Um so about like, two months ago maybe, me and Thomas go on this business trip to Greece. And Thomas and his co-workers go out for a drink. Little do I know that Thomas and this woman called Sara have working up a lovely friendship and have been growing very close for a while. And on this particular night, they get drunk together and Thomas... ends up banging Sara.”  
“He did what?” Frank exclaims, his lips curling into a snarl. “That son of a bitch!”   
Frank turned away and ran his hands down his face in frustration.  
That certainly wasn’t the reaction you thought you would get. You were slightly touched at the fact Frank seemed so bothered about you.  
Frank shook his head and span round, attempting to walk off down the stairs. You could tell by his demeanour that he was about to something incredibly stupid. You planted your hand firmly in the centre of his chest and Franks eyes moved upwards to meet yours. You stare at him intently and he doesn’t budge.   
“Listen, do not do anything you’ll regret.”  
“I’ll regret not beating the shit out of him.” Frank grumbles, backing up hesitantly.  
“Yeah well, I wouldn’t disagree with you there. But this stuff happens to most women. It isn’t really a big deal anymore.”  
“Not a big deal? Y/N he cheated on you!” Frank slams the railing in frustration.  
“Christ almighty I’m well aware, thanks for the tip Sherlock.” You sigh. “Look, I had a huge fight with him when I found out and now I don’t have anything left to say anymore. I get that you want to protect me or something, but what I don’t need is you and your alpha male showdowns.” Frank shakes his head again and you step closer to him, craning your neck to get him to look at you. When he does he’s just watches you with this wondrous look in his eyes.  
“I’m a resilient woman alright? I can fight my own fights. But I appreciate the sentiment.”  
"Sorry, I just get a little protective, s'all. Just when you said that- that he cheated on you," Franks lips twitch and his eyebrows furrow "I just snapped. Y'know? I fuckin' hate cheaters. I hate 'em. And the fact that he did that to you." Frank exhaled and chewed the inside of his cheek, clearly angry. "You-you're just so damn beautiful  
Y/N." Your eyes widened in surprise at this sudden outburst of affection.  
"And I don't mean that in the sappy sort of way. If I say it, then I mean it. You're really somethin'. You're so kind, but then so outspoken and- and you know what you want. And I like that. I like you." He moves towards you and grabs your waist and pulls you closer, big eyes staring deeply into yours. He reaches out and strokes the side of your cheek gently.  
"But, but you hardly know me." You say, short of breath at his speech and in prospect of being so close to him.  
"Yeah, well maybe I'd like the chance to." He grins and slides his hands onto the small of your back and leaning in to brush his nose against yours.  
"For fucks sake," you whisper softly. You grab his face and pull him close for a long and passionate kiss. This is what you'd been longing for, praying for, so you wrap your arms around his neck and lean up to him, finally enjoying this time together.  
A loud ringing interrupts your short-lived moment and slowly you both pull away from each other. Frank rests his forehead against yours and lets out a huge groan.  
"I'm sorry baby, I gotta get this." You nod and bite your lower lip, stepping back from him, feeling a little giddy at the kiss you just shared.  
Frank dives his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone, punching the answer call button, taking a couple steps away from you. You can barely hear him, but the conversation is still audible.  
"What the fuck do you want Micro? I was in the middle of somethin' here." Frank hisses down the line. He then turns slowly and looks straight at you, his face painted as something of grave concern.  
"What the shit are you talkin' about? Micro, are you one-hundred fucking percent confident?" Frank is silent for several seconds, his lips in one tight line. He walks over to the edge of the balcony and looks out. The music comes to an end and lights start to darken slightly. A low applause rises from the crowd as a man steps up onto the stage, bearing a wide smile. You watch Frank as his eyes dart around in slight panic.   
"Are you sure? Alright. I'm leaving now." Frank shoves his phone away and runs up to you gripping onto your arm tightly. "Listen we gotta go."  
"What?" You protest, slightly resisting his grip.  
"Did you not hear me Y/N? We gotta leave, c'mon."  
"Whats going on? Frank? Frank! Tell me whats going on right now!"  
"Listen to me very closely ok? If you trust me, even just a little bit you gotta know that we are both in serious danger if we don't leave. Do you understand me? We have to leave now, I'll explain all of this later, but we cannot stay any longer."  
You nod your head, terrified out of your damn mind.  
Holding your hand tightly in his, you run together down the stairs and out to the front, grabbing your coat on the way out.   
Your heels clattered against the paved roads and your breathing is irregular, panic rising through you like a stabbing pain.  
"Frank, stop, what are we running from?" You try to slow down, but he was determined to continue running.  
"We gotta keep going," he turns to look at you but cuts himself off, "oh shi-"  
A huge explosion blasts from the building and Frank dives onto you, shielding you with his whole body.  
The windows blow out of the front of the auction house, glass shattering into uncountable shards, spraying everywhere. The fire licks the inside of the building, climbing outwards, smoke billowing in clouds and dwindling into the air.  
Frank gently rolls off of you and stares into the flames, his face unreadable.  
You steadily rise to your feet, hands clasped over your mouth as tears well up in your eyes. The heat burned at your skin even as you watched the fire from a distance. Your stomach lurched and for a second you thought you were going to be sick.  
With a heavy heart, you speak in a wavering voice:  
"What the fuck just happened Frank."


	3. Morning Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter resumes after the incident at the auction house, and you demand some answers from Frank.

# Bittersweet

**Hell’s Kitchen, New York 10:42pm**  
“Frank!” You yell, and his eyes remain unmoving. The smell of thick smoke clogs your lungs and burns your eyes. You watch the fire dance for a couple of seconds, you’re horrified and rooted to the spot. A single, hot tear rolls down the side of your face, and drips to the ground.  
You stand there and listen for a second, over the soft crackle and spit of the fire and you wait to see if anyone survived. A sort of morbid curiosity.  
Part of you wanted to leave with every fibre in your body, but part of you wanted to stay. It was the part to scared to do anything else but stand and cry, your mind completely blank and yet frantic with racing thoughts.  
“Follow me.” Frank says, no expression on his face, grabbing your hand and walking towards his car. “We have to leave. I’ll drop you off at home. No one can know we were here at all. Do you hear me?”  
The way Frank addresses you, the cold look in his eyes, and iron tight grip, everything becomes absolutely terrifying and you feel extremely overwhelmed.  
“Why?” You whisper softly, glancing at him nervously. He avoids looking at you entirely and ignores your question.  
“Did you drive here?”  
“No I got a taxi.”  
“Good. Get in.” Frank directs you to a beat up car, rust flaking at the sides exposing silver paint underneath.  
“Frank why won’t you tell me whats going on? A whole fucking building just exploded and you want me to leave with you without any explanation whatsoever?” You half-shouted, half-whispered, your voice raspy.  
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do. Now get in the car, we don’t have long until the cops show up.” He growls at you, his gravelly voice thick with demand.  
With a shaking hand, you open the passenger door and slide into the car. Your whole body is shaking now, fear overriding everything else.  
Frank sits down and pulls a gun out from behind his back and places it into his lap. Your heart makes a small jump in your chest, thudding against your ribcage. He had a gun this whole time? Why?  
Frank starts the engine up and pulls out quickly, he speeds up rounding a corner and sets off towards your house.  
There is deafening silence in the car, and Frank keeps a tight grip on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road. The city lights gleam in the night, bright contrasts to the ink black sky overhead.  
The light bounces off of your skin and you almost recoil into the shadows, afraid of what entirely, you’re not sure.  
The rhythmic hum of passing cars gives you chills, and when the high-pitched wail of police sirens ring out your whole body tenses up and you anxiously fiddle with the buttons on your coat.  
You can’t help but stare out the window as the cruisers race by and you feel almost guilty, you know what happened. You know where. People have died and you don’t even know how many. Was there survivors? Could you have helped someone? Could you have prevented any of this?  
The question you really want the answer to is why it all happened. Currently trapped in a car with a potential maniac, speeding through the streets of Hells Kitchen away from a crime scene. How the hell did your life get so so complicated?  
Frank went in a circle three times around your apartment block to check if anyone was following you, his paranoia was so thick in the air you could almost see it.  
Frank parks outside your apartment, switching the engine off. He sits there for a second and looks across at you. You no longer felt nervous, and Frank had seemed to relax once he knew you were both safe.  
You no longer felt scared. You just felt angry. Angry at what happened, angry at Frank. Just plain angry.  
Without looking at him, you get out of the car and slam the door shut, walking into your apartment building. Saying nothing you unlock your apartment door, switch on the lights and toss your stuff on the floor and kick your heels off.  
Even your open plan apartment feels claustrophobic after the event.  
Frank ambles over to your sofa and sits down, leaning forward and clasping his hands together as he watches you walk into the kitchen.  
“I need a damn drink before we start this shit.”  
You open the kitchen cabinet and pull out a bottle of rum and two glasses and go back to Frank, slamming his glass on the coffee table as you pour your own.  
“So tell me Frank, what the shit happened tonight?” You gulp back the rum, letting it burn the back of your throat and warm your stomach. Frank watches you apprehensively as you pour more rum and drink that too, letting out a loud raspy sigh.  
“I just don’t want you to get caught up in this thi-“  
“Shut the hell up Mr. Castle. You think I want a lecture? A whole fucking building exploded right in front of our eyes tonight. A whole fucking building. People have **died** tonight, we don’t even know how many. There were so many people,” you choked up, thinking about it, “that are dead. We could have prevented that. My client, Chester Langfield for one, will probably be dead right now. He was an innocent man!”  
“He wasn’t innocent.” Frank scoffed, his lip curling up.  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  
“It means exactly what I said. He wasn’t innocent.” You give him a disgusted stare.  
“Could you possibly elaborate on that? I’m sorry if I can’t read your goddamn mind and find the answers for myself.” You see Frank swallow hard, and he blinks a few times, leaning back into your sofa.  
“The auction night was a front.”  
“For what exactly?”  
“It was a front for human trafficking.“  
“Oh fuck.” You take another swig of rum and tried to let its effects wash over you, hoping it would numb the shock you feel.  
“The people there, they weren’t really going to buy paintings or any of that other shit. The money wasn’t really going towards charity, it was to pay for their own slaves.”  
“Every... everyone?”  
“Yeah, pretty much.”  
“But I was there. I didn’t know about that stuff, and I was invited. ”  
“My best guess is that in order for the money to go through a member of the company participating has to show up, it doesn’t matter who. Which means that someone at Dawn Design is in this too, for what reason, we don’t know. It would have to be someone higher up the corporate ladder to be in this circle. The question is who-“  
“And why they didn’t show up themselves. Holy freakin’ shit.” You let out a surprised gasp of breath and sink into your pillows. This was so much to take in.  
“Frank... why were you there? And how in the world do you know all of this?” His jaw flexes and you can see him visibly struggling to answer your questions. Smacking your glass down on the table, you turn to him, anger in your eyes.  
“Could you please tell me? You show up at this random charity event, which turns out to be an illegal gathering, the whole building goes up in flames, which you somehow know will happen, you rush me outside and drive me home, all while the WHOLE TIME you had a gun on you! Please... just talk to me Frank. I’m not even sure if I should believe you.”  
“I’ve been tracking their movements for a few months with my associate, Micro. He’s the one who found about the explosion through some radio communicators we had. We found their organisation through a series of leads.”  
“So, you were there to stop them?”  
“Not really.” Frank looks at you, a sort of sheepish look in his face. You go to speak again and Frank shuffles over to sit next to you, placing your hand in his. “Y/N, I’ve already told you so much. I don’t want you to get involved in this it’s too dangerous.”  
“I’m already involved Frank. There isn’t anything you can do about that now. I’m in this now and there is nothing you can say to keep me out of it.” Your voice is calm but firm, your hands scrunching up beneath Franks hands in frustration.  
“I just don’t want to risk...” he trails off, staring at the ceiling blinking away tears in his eyes.  
“Risk what?” Your voice is soft and you reach out and stroke the side of his face as he looks at you again. He grabs your hand and holds it close to his chest. “Frank did- did something happen to you? Or someone you love...?  
“I don’t want to risk you getting hurt... or losing you. Please, just don’t ask anymore questions, I really don’t want your life in harms way.” He looks at you, unbelievable pain shining in his eyes and a scarred expression you have never seen before. You know that there is so much more to find out, but you don’t want to push him.  
“Ok Frank. If you don’t want me to, then I won’t.” Franks lets out a huge sigh of relief and closes his eyes.  
“Thank you Y/N.” He gives you a lasting look and rises to his feet. “I should go.”  
Grabbing his arm, he turns back to look at you and your grip tightens.  
Standing up, you hold both of his hands and avert your gaze from him, staring at the ground as you fumble over your words.  
“Please Frank, don’t leave. This night has been really traumatising and- and I don’t want to sleep alone. being around you makes me feel... safe.”  
He tenderly lifts your chin up to meet his eyes and kisses your lips softly.  
“I understand sweetheart. I won’t leave if you don’t want me to.”  
“Thank you Frank,” a sigh escapes yours lips and you hug him tightly, pressing your face into his chest. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your hair.  
“Do you want me to sleep on the sofa? Or in your bed?”  
“What am I? A nun? Of course you can sleep in my bed you dork.” Frank chuckles and the sound of his laugh brings you comfort.  
Releasing him from your embrace, you peck a kiss onto his jaw and walk into your bedroom.  
You go to close the curtains and catch a glimpse of the city. It looks so bright, the thousands of lights glowing against the sky. You draw the curtains closed, a twinge of guilt forming in your heart, and step back.  
Stripping your clothes off, you slip on a baggy t-shirt and let the loose fabric hang around your frame. Frank walks in, close behind you, surveying your cluttered bedroom with a humorous expression.  
You bite your lip and hurriedly shuffle into the bathroom and wash your face, letting the cool water soothe your skin and drip onto your bare feet. Looking into the mirror, you grimace upon catching your reflection. You look tired and stressed, dark circles looming under your eyes.  
You switch the light off and return to your bedroom to find Frank has already made himself at home, reading one of your discarded magazines littering the floor. He looks up at you and smiles, patting the space next to him lovingly.  
You slide in next to him, exhaling drowsily, and lie your head on his chest and listen to the steady rhythmic beating of his heart. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your forehead, chucking the magazine onto the floor.  
“You got some shitty reading material here.”  
You let out a weak laugh, tracing lines on his bare skin and watching his goosebumps rise and fall.  
“I’m pretty sure that’s been there for three months or something. I don’t do very much cleaning.”  
“I can tell.” Frank teases and you jab him in the ribs playfully.  
“Hey asshole, you’re the one sleeping in my bed. I think you should be a little kinder to your host don’t you think?”  
“No promises.” He runs his hand through your hair and your whole body shudders.  
“Frank?”  
“Yeah baby?”  
“Thank you for saving my life. Again.”  
“Anytime.”

 

You wake up to a series of loud crashes coming from your kitchen, followed by a string of curse words. A smile widens on your face as you realise Frank is here and you sit up, yawning as you stretch your arms.  
You brush your hair and pull it up loosely, slipping your feet into your slippers and wiggling your toes against the soft fur.  
You plod into the kitchen and lean lazily against the counter as you watch Frank struggle to force the pans back into the cupboard he opened.  
The early morning light shone through the windows and gleamed off of the tiles, and you squint at Franks figure, crouched low on the floor.  
You take a moment to appreciate the fine muscled man in your kitchen, wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts, grunting heavily at his efforts to sort out the mess he created.  
“What the hell are you doing Castle?”  
Frank snaps his head up at you and closes the cupboard with a slam, clearing his throat awkwardly.  
“Well, you see, I was tryin’ to find cups for some coffee and ended up opening this hell you have in your kitchen.” You look at the stern lines formed tightly on his face and start laughing.  
“Oh you poor thing. Was Frank the muscle man bested by a couple of kitchen pans?”  
The corners of Franks lips turn up slightly, his eyes shining brightly and he crosses his arms over his bare chest.  
“At least I don’t look like a grandma.” He gestures to your slippers with a raise of an eyebrow.  
“Hey! I’ll have you know that these are very comfortable grandma slippers. And you’ll do well not to aggravate me before I’ve had a cup of coffee.”  
“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do?” Frank takes a step closer to you and grabs your waist, pulling his hips against yours.  
“Keep this up mister and you’ll find out.” You kiss him with a smile, running your hands over the back of his shaved head. You pull back, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of his broken nose and looking deep into his brown eyes.  
“Now, did you say you made coffee?”  
“Yes ma’am. Didn’t find the cups though.” You step back and open the cabinet closest to you, pulling out two coffee cups, grinning at Frank as you set them down on the counter.  
“I’m gonna pretend like I knew where they were the whole time."  
"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that." You watch Frank with an amused grin as he serves the drinks, and drinks some of his in one long sip, coffee dribbling down his chin.  
“Ew, you drink black coffee?” You grimace and swipe his chin with one thumb. “That shit tastes like battery acid and monkey piss.”  
Frank laughs and kisses your cheek.  
“Sure don’t taste like it to me.” He watches you with a tilted head and a humorous glint in his eyes.  
“Pff. Whatever you say Castle.”  
Your phone begins to vibrate frantically from your jacket pocket and you go to pick it up, giving Frank a sly look.  
“Hey Tina how are you?”  
“Oh my gosh girl I was so worried I’ve been trying to contact you all morning. Are you ok? I saw what happened on the news and I was just about to come over to your house to check up on you.”  
Fuck. The bomb. The whole of last night came flooding back to you in a sea of ghastly memories.  
“Oh gosh yes I’m so sorry I didn’t call, I uh ended up seeing Frank and leaving early to go back to my place.” You winced at the lie, but pushed the feeling to the back of your mind, instead turning your attention to Frank.  
You watched as he pours out more coffee, steam rising from the cups and the moisture clinging to his skin. Frank catches you watching him and grins and you blush, turning away from his gaze.  
“And all this time to think I was worried?” Tina chuckles. “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”  
“Yeah me and Frank left way before any of that stuff happened.”  
“Uh huh. And what did you and Frank do when you went back to your apartment?”  
You turn around to see Frank sipping his coffee, deep in thought as he looks at your proudly framed photographs, eyebrows furrowed.  
“Tina do you really have to ask that?” You say with a small smile and Tina laughs.  
“Nah I just like that you ‘hung out’ again. Enjoy yourself hun.”  
“Thank you Tina, have a good day.” You clicked the end call button and walked over to Frank, still in the kitchen.  
“That was my friend, she was the only person who knew I was going to the party. Told her I left with you, so our secrets safe.” You sigh as you pour cream into your coffee, watching the colours combine.  
“I know that must have been hard for you to lie to her, but it’s for her safety too.”  
“I know, I know. I just don’t like it, thats all.” You frown and stare at your feet, fingers curling around your cup in discomfort.  
“Hey,” Frank strokes your shoulder and you look up, “everything will work out.”  
“I hope you’re right.”


	4. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank shows up to your apartment badly beaten up in the middle of the night.

# Bittersweet

  
**Three days after the explosion- Monday 1:22am**   
"Fuck,” you curse heavily under your breath with a flinching glance at the time displayed by the clock on your desk.  
You’d been investigating for five hours straight, searching for any indication that Dawn Design might be involved in anything illegal. So far, nothing had turned up, there were no online records of anything.  
There was, however, one article in which one of your current bosses, Jared Holds had been exposed to having criminal ties to a drug company.  
It could be entirely possible that the trafficking had been used for drugs, the people being transported used for forced labour.  
The files you had gathered at work hadn’t really turned up any concrete evidence, only more shady transactions.  
You span your chair around to face your bed, patting your feet on the floor to fill up the silence. You stared at the safely hidden box of files beneath your bed and bit your lip, annoyed you couldn’t find anything useful.  
You had managed to get Franks number when he left a few days ago and had managed to talk to him a little bit since then, but he wasn’t very good at texting back or communicating in general.  
You knew Frank would be angry if he found your files, but for him to just expect you to continue through life without trying to find something on the company was absurd.  
You sighed, sleeping was at the back of your mind, an unwelcoming idea at the moment. You were just too awake.  
Slamming your laptop shut, you shuffle into your living room and sink into the sofa, planning to watch some trash television and wait for tiredness to set in.  
You pick up the remote and flick through the channels, your eyes glazing over at all dramatic soap operas and boring sports channels. You stop, however, on the news channel and turn up the volume.  
“Earlier tonight, there was a harrowing gunfight that occurred in downtown Hells Kitchen. Witnesses are describing the famous Punisher there, fighting an unknown group. This footage here recorded from our helicopter shows the men fighting a gruesome battle-“ you paused the program and leant forward, squinting at the screen.  
The footage was blurry and you could only see the profile of the man they called ‘Then Punisher’, but you could recognise that shaved head and damn broken nose anywhere.  
The Punisher was Frank. Frank was The Punisher. Holy shit.  
A series of frantic knocks came from the door and you snapped out of your thoughts with a jump, scrambling to get to your feet.  
Opening the door revealed Frank, stood there and his face was badly beaten, fresh bruises forming already, complimenting his split lip.  
“Hey there sweetheart.”  
“Oh my god, Frank! What the hell happened to you?” You exclaimed, pulling him inside and checking the hallway cautiously before slamming the door shut.  
You turn to see Frank with his eyes glued to the screen.  
“So you saw that huh?” He looks back at you, and you grimace and nod grimly.  
“You must know who I am then?”  
“I have a pretty good idea,” you sigh and shake your head. “I just can’t believe that-“  
Frank suddenly clutches his side in pain, a moan escapes his lips. You notice the huge amount of blood dripping from his hand and gasp in shock.  
“Oh Jesus Frank look at you! We have to get you to a hospital!” You move forward and gingerly touch his bloody wound. Frank flinches at your touch and moves back, stretching his hand out.  
“No. No hospitals. Promise me? You have to patch me up here.” He seems out of breath, his lip quivering and his eyes dart around nervously.  
“Why? Who were you fighting?”  
“A bunch of mercenaries Dawn Design hired to protect their warehouses. They’re looking for me. Some of them jumped me and I barely made it out of there, they were following me and I lost them. But the first thing they’ll do is check the hospitals.”  
“Oh Jesus.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to process all the information you’re given. The situation unfolding you is terrifying, the black hole of the company getting wider.  
“I suspect a drug ring. Using the people they buy to create those drugs and sell them off,” Frank grimaces as he talks, as if whatever he’s thinking affects him for another reason entirely. “Believe me ma’am, I really didn’t want to get you involved in this but you were closest to me.”  
“Oh, gosh Frank. It’s ok, don’t worry about that.” You say to him, slinging his arm around your shoulder and moving his weight onto you, trying to move him into your bedroom. You get through the doorway and stopped to readjust his weight on you,  
“I think I know how to help you anyway.” You struggle to uphold his body, grunting under his weight. “Hey, when I pictured us grunting together again, this is not at all what I had in mind Castle.”  
Frank lets out a hoarse laugh, but the laughter turns into spluttering coughs and he slips out of your grip and quickly drops onto the floor with a thud and you crouch next to him, examining the damage done.  
“Oh Frank, christ almighty.”  
He had what looked like two stab wounds in his abdomen and a bullet grazing across his arm.  
“Frank, this is much worse than I thought it was. I don’t know if I can fix this.”  
“Don’t go to a hospital. That would put you in danger too,” he grips your arms and puts his face right in front of yours. His eyes seem to search yours, almost pleading with you. “Help me Y/N.”  
“Ok, ok. I’m just going to-“ you scramble to get up and run into your bathroom, picking up the first aid kit and rushing back into the living room, crouching next to Frank. You prop his head up with a pillow and try to pull his bullet-proof vest and jacket off, cutting his shirt with a pair of scissors.  
Frank groans in pain and you have to hold back the urge to vomit. There was blood everywhere, so, so much blood. The wounds on his side looked quite deep, but from what you could see they hadn’t managed to hit anything important.  
“God Frank.” Tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t bear to see Frank in pain. You pulled on your gloves and grabbed a bundle of rags to put on his wounds, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.  
It took a couple minutes, but once the bleeding had stopped, you poured alcohol over the area and Frank recoiled in pain, arching his back.  
“Jesus fucking christ.” Frank moaned, gripping you hand tightly.  
“I just have to stitch you up Frank. Do you want something to bite down on or something?”  
“No, don’t worry baby, I ain’t gonna scream.”  
“If you say so...” you pick up the needle and thread it, cleaning the wounds one last time. You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to steady your hand and calm your nerves. Your stomach was turning over, the nausea intensifying and bile rising in your throat.  
“I don’t know if I can do this Frank.” You whimper, looking hesitantly at his split skin. Frank stares heavily at you, one hand clutching your knee.  
“You can do this Y/N. It might seem bad at first, but you get used to it. Besides, I’m not the one being stabbed with a needle.” He tries to reassure you with a weak smile, but all it does is make you more upset for him.  
You take a long breath and closed your eyes, swallowing hard.  
“Alright... alright...” you reach out and begin stitching, Frank doesn’t really give much of a reaction to it, staring at the ceiling, his hand still clutching your knee.  
You almost threw up a couple of times, but managed to push the feeling away, concentrating as hard as you possibly could to the task at hand.  
You bandaged up all of his injuries and cleaned the cut on his lip, your finger trailing across the corner of his mouth and Frank looked at you, almost with adoration.  
You collect some painkillers and hold up his head as you help him wash the pills down with a glass of cold water.  
You gently lay his head down again and kiss his cheek, being careful to avoid the bruises and Frank pats your knee.  
His eyes close slowly and he drifts off into unconsciousness. You panic a bit and check his pulse, but it’s still going strong.  
You fetch some wam water and a cloth, and begin washing the blood off of his chest and arms, watching the bloody water trail onto the floor in droplets.  
You dry your hands on the towel and walk back to Frank, wondering what the hell you were going to do with him. You look up the the bed and realise it wasn’t that far away, maybe a couple of metres. Besides, you couldn’t just leave him on the floor.  
You reach your arms under Franks shoulders and hoisted him up as gently as you could, dragging his heavy body across the floor, wrestling with his weight. You reach the bed and set him down on the ground and Franks head rolled to the side, his eyes still tightly shut.  
You then wrap your arms around his chest and pull him on top of the bed, panting at your efforts.  
You lie his head down back against the pillows and remove his blood stained, ripped trousers and toss them onto the floor.  
Frank looked peaceful, all of his usually tensed muscles now relaxed. You watched the rise and fall of his chest and listened to his steady breathing and stroked his jaw tenderly.  
Satisfied that he was fine, you took your clothes off and put them in the wash, throwing your pyjamas on.  
Walking into the bathroom, you switch the light on and wince and the brightness and for the second time in this past week, you catch a glance of your ghastly reflection in the mirror.  
You wash your hands in the bathroom sink, scrubbing diligently at the dried blood crusted underneath your fingernails. You wipe the sweat off of your forehead with your arm and lean over the sink.  
You watch the water swirl away down the drain and wondered how your life had come to this. Stitching up a criminal in your apartment.  
Oh god Frank was a criminal. You were hiding a criminal. Frank had *killed* people.  
You couldn’t even begin to comprehend why. What could possibly have caused him to get to that point, to blatantly target other people and kill them.  
But he didn’t seem like a serial killer. He seemed like a perfectly level-headed person. And that is what frightened you. Deep down inside, a tiny part of you feared him. And yet, he made you feel so secure.  
You shook your head in disbelief and the welled up teardrops splattered into the basin. You held back the whimpers, fearful that Frank would wake up and hear you. You didn’t want him to feel guilty, and you couldn’t stand the fact he had been hurt and he was in danger.  
There was so many emotions and you couldn’t make sense of any of them. You let out a gasp for air and wiped your tears with your wet hands, staring at the ceiling and willing some courage to appear.  
You let out a frustrated sigh and dried your hands and face and made your way back into the bedroom. You pulled the duvet over Franks chest, watching him sleep with a smile, and went to lie down next to him.  
You put your head next to his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his and intertwining both of your fingers.  
You watched his mouth part slightly and a snore slipped out and you stifled a giggle into your pillow. He continued to snore quietly, and you couldn’t help but think that he looked sweet. So oblivious to you and the world moving around him, and you were caught up in the bliss of the moment.  
You stared at him with wonder, you knew that what he did was bad. So very fucked up kind of bad.  
But you didn’t think that it automatically made him a bad person.  
You slipped off into a dreamless sleep, your face pressed into Franks shoulder letting out a happy sigh. 

****

****

****The sound of rustling woke you and you propped yourself up on your elbows, wiping the sleep from your eyes groggily.  
“Frank?” You croaked, squinting at his silhouette. He sat up, clutching his side and wincing in pain.  
“Hey there sweetheart. I’m gettin’ used to waking up to your face on a morning...” Frank grins at you, and you blush. “Did you... did you carry me by yourself into your bed?” Frank looks around the room quizzically, a raised eyebrow directed at you.  
“Well, it was more like dragged but... whatever you wanna say cowboy.” You tried to joke, but your voice faltered at the end and you bit your lip.  
Franks face became riddled with concern and he reached out and carefully held your hand.  
“What’s going on Y/N?” He leaned his head to look at you and pushed your hair back from your face.  
“I- I just. Frank... you’re- you’re the Punisher. And I- I don’t know how to respond to that. What do I do? What do I say? I thought I was getting to know you properly you and you just show up to my apartment half-beaten to death and I was so scared. What am I supposed to do now?” Your voice wavered and you attempted to control your emotions, holding back the tears.  
Frank looks at you, guilt plastered all over his face and exhaustion showing under his dark eyes.  
“Y/N I’m so sorry... if I knew that you would react like this I wouldn’t have shown up at all. I really don’t want you to feel like this. I understand if you don’t want to see me again. I can go now if you want me to.”  
You shook your head, grasping his hand tighter.  
“No I don’t want you to go at all. Besides, you can’t leave. You don’t have any clothes to wear.” You giggled, trying to move past the previous emotions and instead focused on Frank, the way his face lit up at your change in mood. He cracked a smile and squeezed your hand.  
“You’re the one who ripped my shirt off.” He teases, cupping your chin and kissing you softly.  
“Mm, I am aren’t I?”  
“And where did my pants go?” He questioned, scanning the room for them.  
“I took them off of you. They were also blood stained and ripped in various places.”  
“Ah. I believe that is the second time you’ve taken the pants off of my body.” Frank smirks at you, a sparkle in his eye. You laugh and bat his shoulder playfully.  
The moment fades and you feel a sudden change come over you.  
“Frank can I ask you a... personal question?” You ask nervously, barely making eye contact with him.  
“Um, sure.”  
“Why do you- why do you kill those... people? Why did you become The Punisher?” As soon as you ask those questions you want to take them all back, biting your lip in regret. Your words hit the stale air and hang there for a bit and Frank stares down at your hand in his for a few seconds, breathing deeply. He looks at you from under his eyelashes, sorrow in his eyes.  
“You sure you want to know?”  
You nod and place your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat vibrate under your fingertips.  
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”  
“No, I want to.” Franks eyebrows furrow and he presses his lips together. He slides down the bed to lie face you, and you do the same. You reach out and tenderly caress his bristly beard. He exhales a long breath and his tongue runs over his lips.  
“I was a marine. I’d been overseas. Fighting. Killing. Watching my friends die right in front of me. It never effected me, not like the other boys there. I would see these awful things happen to good people and people I never knew. I would watch these horrible scenes right in front of my eyes and eventually I got used to it. It just washed over me y’know? Eventually, I get to go home. I see my family, my beautiful wife, my boy and my daughter. Nothing could have replaced the joy I felt when I saw them. The relief to know that I wouldn’t die in the field, surrounded by enemies who wanted me dead. The relief I felt that something out there had gifted me another day in this world, holding everything I love dear to me in my arms. But I felt out of place. Like the world around me had moved on and left me behind. My kids had grown so much since I had last seen them, my old friends barely recognised me and I couldn’t explain to my wife why I felt tired. Why I felt so tired of everything. Why I struggled to do so many of the normal things a husband could do. My wife, she - she wanted me to go to a party with her, a party she and her family had thrown for me. She said that she was so happy I was back, that she wanted me to come and meet her friends. She wanted to tell people about me and tell people about my courage, and I told her no. I told her I didn’t want to go. That I didn’t want to be paraded round, and I didn’t want to be at a party where everyone was pretending everything was just great. I didn’t want peoples pity of how hard it must’ve been. And I didn’t want the sad looks I would get. I wish now that I’d gone. I realise now that she didn’t want to show me off, she wanted to welcome me back into the world. She was proud of me and wanted people to know that. My daughter, she wanted me to read to her and play with her. I guess, she missed out on me when I was away. But I said no. I said ‘daddy’s too tired’. I said that I would read and play with her everyday, but today daddy is too tired. So instead we go out to central park and it’s beautiful. The sun is out and I feel calmer, I feel happy. We have a picnic, my kids are running around and my wife is telling me these gossip stories. And then... these bullets start flying. And they hit all of my family. Next thing I know I’m next to their bodies, watching my wife and son choke on their own blood. My girl, she dies immediately. I hold her lifeless body in my arms and I watch the blood drain from her skin and run down my arms. I sit there in a pool of their blood and I wonder why. Why everything I love had to be taken away from me in an instant. They killed my boy. My wife and-" Frank chokes up, tears rolling down his cheeks, "my little girl. They killed my baby girl."  
You pull his body into yours and Frank collapses into you, his shoulders shuddering as he lets out muffled sobs.  
You cry along with him, the pain in your chest so piercing that you feel like you could die. That everything in this life was worthless. That Frank had had something he cared about so deeply ripped away from him. And you felt angry. You felt angry at the world that something like that could have happened to him.  
You finally felt like you understood Frank Castle. 


	5. Cheap Tequila

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day you and Frank have a fight, leaving you to wonder what the exact nature of your relationship is.

#  Bittersweet

**Hell’s Kitchen, New York, the next day 12:16pm**  
“Whatcha cooking there?” Frank comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, planting a wet kiss on your cheek.  
“Scrambled eggs. It’s the only thing I can make that actually tastes decent.” You grin and continue to stir the food.  
“Not much of a cook then?”  
“Unless you can call a frozen dinner ‘cooking’, then no. Sorry if I have disappointed any of your fantasies Castle.”  
Frank laughs and nuzzles your hair.  
“You don’t have to be a good cook for me to fantasise about you sweetheart.”  
You turn your head to look at him, a coy expression on your face.  
“Oh? Is that so?” You raise your eyebrow at him.  
“Mm. It sure is.” Frank kisses you and releases you rom his grip, getting plates and cutlery out on the counter for you.  
You serve up the food and place everything on the table, coffee and all. You both go and sit down and Frank practically inhales his food, shoving huge forkfuls into his mouth. You giggle and he looks at you sheepishly, trying to slow his chewing.  
“Sorry, I just haven’t eaten properly in a while.” Frank pushes his food round his plate.  
“No, don’t apologise. Eat as quickly as you want. I’m not stopping you.” You touch you foot against his under the table and take a sip of coffee. Frank grins at you and continues to wolf his food down.  
“So are you feeling better?” You inquire, watching him with a raised eyebrow. Frank wipes his mouth with his hand and nods.  
“Well, I feel like shit, but I’m sure I would feel worse if it hadn’t been for you.”  
“Don’t thank me yet. You have to take it easy these next few days Frank,” you place your hand in his and lean forward to get his attention. “Frank I’m being serious. Relax for a while, you need to clean those wounds and keep taking antibiotics.”  
“Yes ma’am. Will do.” Frank salutes you and you smile at him, shaking your head.  
“Speaking of antibiotics,” you get to your feet and collect some painkillers left on the counter from last night, planting the bottles on the table in front of Frank. “You better start taking these now.”  
Frank looks at you with adoration and takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.  
“Thank you sweetheart. Where would I be without you?”  
“Possibly dead,” you joke, tenderly brushing your hand against his bruised face. Frank stares back at you, and rests his hand on top of yours and you stay like that for a while, and it feels nice. For a moment, the world slows down and you can only see Frank.   
You kiss his bruised cheek and start to clear away the plates, humming under your breath. You put everything in the sink and beckon Frank into your bedroom, he follows you with a puzzled expression. You open your closet and root around for a while.  
“You’re gonna need some clothes. These should fit you, they might be a bit tight, but I think that’ll be just fine. You got muscles for days Castle, you should show em’ off,” you tease, chucking the clothes at his head. Frank catches them and watches you with a brooding expression.  
“What? Just stating facts.” You close the space between you both and brushing your hand against his biceps.  
“Are you... are you trying to seduce me?” Frank asks slyly, raising an eyebrow.  
“Mm, you can call it whatever you want cowboy,” you tease again, tracing a line up his chest and resting your arms around his neck. Frank grunts and kisses you softly, his lips barely making contact with yours.  
“Wait... are these Thomas’?” Frank holds the clothes out and looks at them with disgust.  
“Oh my god Frank. They’re just clothes.” You roll your eyes and pull out your own clothes from your closet.  
“Yeah but they belonged to Thomas. I don’t want to wear his clothes.”  
“Frank, could you stop being a child for a minute and put the damn clothes on?” You glare at him and put your hands on your hips. Frank grumbles and shuffles over to your bed and starts getting dressed.  
He drops the t-shirt on the floor and bends down to pick it up, catching a glance under your bed.  
He moves to crouch on the floor and starts to reaches for a box, pulling it out.  
A lump forms in your throat and you rush to stop him, trying to casually step in front of the box.  
“Oh, hey Frank, I think we have everything we need here.” You smile nervously and push the box under your bed with your foot, offering Frank your hand. He shoots you a quizzical look.  
“Wait, why? You got something weird hidden under your bed that you don’t want me to see?” Frank reaches under the bed and retrieves the box, opening the lid and you slam it shut.  
“I would really prefer if you didn’t open that.” Your voice is low and you swallow hard, trying to stand your ground.  
“Y/N, what the hell are you trying to hide from me?” Frank growls, glaring at you.  
“Nothing. I would just like you to not pry into my business. There’s some... personal shit in there.” Your heart beats really fast and you hold your hand firmly on top of the box. Frank looks at you sideways and watches your lips twitch anxiously.  
“Bullshit.” Frank removes your hand and opens the lid, searching around for a bit.  
“Listen Frank-“ you attempt to interject, putting your hand on his shoulder. Frank stands up and turns to face you, bunches of files in his hands and an angered expression on his face.  
“You looked into Dawn Design and all of their investments? You hid these files from me? You looked into them, specifically after I told you I didn’t want you involved in this?” Frank is pissed, his shoulders have gone rigid and he glares at you, fire in his eyes.  
“You thought I was going to keep working there and not investigate them? Are you fucking serious Frank? Just because you told me that I shouldn’t doesn’t mean that I have to obey you!” You cross your arms over your chest and press your lips together. Frank scoffs and slams the files to the ground.  
“It wasn’t a demand! It was a request! I’m trying to protect you!” Frank shouts, rubbing his hands over the back of his head in irritation.   
“You may think you’re protecting me, but I chose to do this. I want to investigate them I want to bring the company down. I want to help!”  
“Well you’re not helping! You are putting yourself directly in harms way! Thats exactly what I didn’t want to happen!”  
“I know that Frank. I know,” you step closer to him and try to touch his shoulder but he jerks away from you and you scowl at him. “Don’t you even want to know what I found out?”  
“No I don’t. I don’t want to listen to any more of this.”  
“Frank-“  
“I said no!” He yells and you jump back, fear splitting through you, sending trembles into your hands. You bite your lip and step back from him. A look of regret forms on his face and he steps towards you, hands outstretched in apology.  
“Y/N I’m so sorry-“  
“Just shut up ok? I don’t want to hear an apology and I don’t care,” you snapped. Frank looks taken aback, almost hurt by your remark.  
“You want to know what I found out? They have made several transactions with many charities over the past ten years. But they never specify how much, which charity it is, what they pay for, or why. It’s all hidden. How fucking bizarre is that? And you want to know something else?” You tilt your head and glower at him. “I know now why you were there that night at the auction house. I pieced it all together in my mind, and I wasn’t going to say anything, until now of course.”  
Franks stays silent, his jaw muscles flex and his eyes narrow.  
“You were never there to stop the trafficking, you were there to get information from someone, someone involved with your families death. I saw you watching the military types and it didn’t make any sense until now. You were there to torture them, find out about your families death. And I get that Frank, I really do. But do not pretend like me looking into the company is a big deal, because I know what you do in your spare time and it’s not pretty. Just let me help, let me do this one thing for myself. I cannot sit around with my hands under my backside and let this trafficking happen in my company, in my damn city. I want to do this, and I know the risks Frank.” You’re breathless, your fists are clenched but you feel invigorated. Your blood flowing through you stronger than before because you finally got this weight off of your chest.   
Franks remains the same, stood there as before, lip curled into a snarl. He looks at you a last time and snatches the shirt off of the floor, pulling it over his head and storms out of your bedroom. You follow him, your lips parted in confusion.  
“Frank what are you doing...” you ask tentatively, watching him with disdain.  
Frank ignores you, pulling his shoes and jacket on and heading for the door.  
“Frank where the hell do you think you’re going.” You step in front of his path and glare at him. He glares back and pushes past you, opening and closing the door with a slam.  
Outraged, you open the door and stare at him as he stomps down the hallway.  
“Frank fucking Castle, don’t you dare walk away from me.” You’re shouting, hands clamped by your sides, almost shaking in rage. He continues to ignore you and disappears once again from your sights.  
You feel discouraged and hurt. How could he just leave like that? Just walk out of your life like nothing happened. 

Eight hours later and you’re sat at the bar where you and Frank had your first drink together, knee deep in regret and cheap tequila.  
“Another one of whatever this is,” you slur at the bartender and she looks at you with a lopsided frown before pouring you another glass of some miscellaneous alcohol.  
“I don’t think you should have anymore after this,” she says, organising the bottle rack and watching you down the contents of your drink in one go.  
“What are you, my mother? Imma be here all night, so keep ‘em coming. I haven’t got anywhere else to be anyway.” You signal for another drink and roll your head to the side to look at her with curiosity.  
“Do you pity me?” You ask.  
“No,” she says with finality, placing a glass in front of you. You pick it up and swirl around the liquid before sipping it, letting it warm your stomach and burn your throat.  
“Good. I don’t need that tonight. Don't need anyone tryna protect me or some shit like that." The bartender gives you a quizzical look, but you ignore it. You smack your lips together and massage your temples, trying to dull the persistent throbbing headache you have.  
Your phone buzzes again, you take one look at the caller ID and smash the decline button.  
“Isn’t that like the tenth time he’s tried to call you?” The bartender asks, peering at the displayed contact on your phone.  
“I don’t know, I haven’t kept count,” you grumbled your response and brooded, taking another swig of your drink.  
“Who is he anyway? If I’m not prying.”  
“Oh you’re prying alright. But he’s my...” you pause and think deeply. What exactly was Frank to you? What was your relationship to him? He just shows up randomly, asking for help and making you confused. He was unreliable, unstable, dangerous. But also passionate, careful, caring. He was a complicated mess, but in a way, *your* complicated mess. You felt unexplainably connected to him, in a way you hadn’t felt before and couldn’t comprehend. And in a way, it was a little terrifying. Yet, it was exhilarating.   
“He’s your what?” The bartenders question snaps you out of your thoughts and you clear your throat.  
“I... don’t know,” you whisper, running your finger around the rim of your glass.  
The bartender sighs and leans on the counter.  
“Well whatever you guys are, maybe you should give him a call. Hear whatever he has to say. Whatever he did that was bad, maybe you should just listen to him. Even if he is a total dick,” she says, smiling at you.  
“Maybe you’re right. Thank you.”  
“Anytime.” She moves on to serve another customer and leaves you to your thoughts. You consider calling Frank back but instead knock back your drink and slam the glass on the table.  
This sucks. Fights are never fun, and now you regret drinking so much, the world is fuzzy and your emotions are starting to overtake you.  
“Y/N?” A hand touches your shoulder and you turn your head to see Frank.  
“Oh. It’s you. How’d you find me cowboy?” Your words are slurred, coming out smushed together.  
“Micro and I tracked your cell...” Frank trails off and grimaces at the stacks of empty glasses surrounding you. His face twitches and you know exactly what he sees. Messy hair, pale face, dark circles under your eyes and the stink of alcohol.  
“Jesus how much did you drink?” Frank says, his tone thick with concern.  
“Enough to-uh... enough to somethin’,” you slur, waving your glass around in the air.  
“Well, c’mon lets go.” He puts his arm around your shoulder and tries to pull you up. You struggle to resist his strength, wobbling dangerously on the edge of your stool.   
“No. I’m not going anywhere.” You readjust yourself and stick out your bottom lip. Somewhere inside you, you recognise that you’re acting like a brat, but in your current state of mind, you feel it’s deserving.  
Frank scoffs and slides onto the stool next to you, propping his elbow up on the bar.  
“What the hell are you doing?”  
“Standing my ground.” You jut your chin out and stare at him directly.  
“Well you can stop with the tough girl act. You’re drunk and I need to take you home.”  
“No you don’t. I’m fine.” You steady yourself on the bar to stop the world from spinning and close your eyes for a couple of seconds.  
“You’re clearly not fine Y/N. You look like shit.”   
“Thats not a nice way to talk to your girlfriend,” you mumble, glaring at him. Franks posture shifts and he watches you with mild concern.  
Fuck.  
“If I was your girlfriend. Which I’m not. Because we’re not together. Because your life’s too compli- complica- busy. And we haven’t even really known each other for that long and...” you pause and look at Frank with embarassment. He gives you a sympathetic look and strokes your cheek. You lean into his touch and close your eyes, smiling.  
“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” you murmur.  
“I know.”  
“You can take me home now.” You look up at him and hold out your hand. He smiles and takes it, helping you up, throwing a bunch of notes onto the bar. You stumble and fall into his chest, clutching his shirt in bunches.  
“Fuck, I had way much more to drink than I thought.”  
Frank lets out a low laugh and you smile into his chest, knowing that he seemed more cheerful made you happy.   
You sling your arm around Franks neck and on the way out, you catch a glimpse of the bartender and wave at her.  
“I think I’ll take your advice!” You shout, patting Franks chest. She and Frank chuckle and he guides you outside to his car, letting your body lean into his as he opens the car door.

You stumble around your room, fumbling to take you shoes off and tripping over your carpet, falling to the floor with a heavy thud. Frank holds back a snicker and you glare at him.  
“Do not laugh at me Frank Castle.”  
“You’re right ma’am. Sorry.” He lifts you up and helps you to sit on the bed, searching for one of your many discarded sleeping shirts on the messy floor.  
He helps you to take off your top, carefully removing it and throwing it over his shoulder. You wriggle out of your jeans and Frank pulls them off your legs, running a hand over your bare leg and smiling at you reassuringly.  
He pulls the shirt over your head and caresses your shoulder and you tug at his shirt, flashing him a winning smile. He removes his shirt too, tossing it aside before pulling his pants off to. You run a finger over one of his scars on his chest and he smiles at you before hoisting you up onto his hips and you giggle, but then let out a gasp.  
“Frank, your wounds!” You exclaim, gently touching his side.  
“It’s fine sweetheart, your not hurting me.” He climbs onto your bed and you cling to his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under your hands.  
He gently sets you down next to him and you let out a happy sigh as you snuggle into his embrace. He kisses you hair and rests his chin on you head and his grip around your body tightens.  
“Hey Frank,” you mumble into his chest.  
“Yes sweetheart?”  
“I’m so, so, so sorry about your family Frank. I really am. I can’t imagine the pain you feel, and I feel like shit. I didn’t mean to say those things, I just don’t want you to try and control me.”  
Frank takes a sharp intake of breath and his body shudders against yours. You can’t see his face, but you can imagine that he looks pained right now, tears stinging his eyes.  
“It’s fine sweetheart, don’t worry. I didn’t mean to say those things either, I just worry about you so much and the last thing I would want is for you to be hurt. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”  
“Nothing will happen to me Frank. I promise.”  
There is calming silence, and you listen to Frank breathe and the soft wail of sirens in the distance, the noise trickling through your apartment window.  
Frank takes a deep breath and speaks.  
“You can still investigate the company if you want. But I have to help you. I have to be able to protect you.” Franks voice is low and barely audible, but you know that he means what he says, despite the fact that he hates it.  
“Ok Frank. I’ll protect you too. Because you’re all mine,” you giggle, your heavy eyelids drooping closed and sleep pulling you under.  
Franks body stiffens, but then relaxes and he chuckles.  
“If I’m yours, then you’re mine,” he whispers, caressing your back with his calloused hands.  
“I like the sound on that...” you trail off, the alcohol getting the best of you and you fall into the sweet release of sleep.  
Franks stays awake and for one of the first times in what felt like a century, he feels happiness grow inside him.


	6. Raindrops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and you go out for coffee, but end up getting caught in the rain.

# Bittersweet

There’s a rustling at the foot of your bed, a couple of grunts and the sound of discarded clothing thudding to the floor.  
A warm body slides in next to you, one arm around your waist and a face pressed into your shoulder, beard bristles tickling your skin.  
“Frank?” You mumble, rolling over, still half-asleep. He looks sheepish, like a child caught after curfew, a mix of surprise and regret. He immediately reaches out and cradles your face in his hands, soothing you with soft kisses.  
“Shh princess, go back to sleep.”  
He’s really trying his best to lull you into a slumber again, and you’ll give him credit for that. But you’re too awake now, and your brain is registering everything that’s going on with varying degrees of worry.  
“Frank, this is like the fifth time in the past two weeks.”  
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, the nights just keep getting later. I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I really don’t want you to lose sleep over me though, so just please go back to sleep.” Frank pushes your hair out of your face and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek, it smells like strong coffee, which is probably the majority of Franks diet at the moment.  
You shift your head and the beaming light from outside illuminates Franks face and you can see a couple of grazes over his forehead and heavy bruises align his cheek. It isn’t the first time he’s come back with scrapes, usually they’re a lot worse, but every time you see him hurt you get a tad emotional. All you can think about is him in harms way, risking his life with a death wish.  
“Who was it this time? A mob boss?” You try to make light of the situation by joking, but it’s masking your worry. You’re really trying hard not to obsess over what he does, you don’t want to pester him.  
“Close. Some guy illegally dealing out guns.”  
At first, when you guys got serious, Frank attempted to keep you in the dark about what he was doing. Eventually, he decided to just tell you what he was up to, so he wasn’t being so secretive all the time.  
“Are you ok?” You placed your hand on his cheek and lovingly stroked a thumb over his grazes.  
“Hm, I love it when you worry about me baby girl,” Frank purrs, taking your hand off of his face and kisses your knuckles.  
“Someone has to.”  
Frank smiles at you, a plain look of adoration plastered on his smug face.  
“You wearing my shirt again sweetheart?” Frank lifts the covers slightly to reveal you wearing his blue flannel, the edges of the fabric brushing your bare legs.  
You push the covers down, almost in embarrassment.  
“I missed you Franky. Am I not allowed to miss you?” You ask with an innocent expression, your fingertips dancing on his chest.  
“Babe, you know I love it when you wear my shirts. And I think it’s hot as shit that you miss me...” Frank growls, pulling your body closer to his so that your pressed against him, the feeling of his quickened heartbeat against your skin setting sparks off.  
“Frank...” you whisper into his ear, kissing his earlobe.  
“Mm what is it?”  
“I _really_ missed you. I’ve felt a little bit neglected recently...” you purr, nuzzling his beard and breathing heavily onto his skin.  
Franks breathing quickens, his chest heaving and his mind races.  
“Oh baby, I’ll make it up to you right now,” Frank dips low, kissing your neck, his beard tickling your skin. He unbuttons your flannel, placing more burning kisses on your chest and you let out a soft moan.  
Frank tilts his head up and looks at you, his lips tantalisingly close to your skin, but not quite there, the edge of his bottom lip brushing your chest.  
He’s making you wait, and you know it. He likes teasing you, watching you writhe around and beg for his touch.  
“Say you want me baby,” he whispers, running his hand over your stomach and gliding over your thighs.  
“For fucks sake, Frank. I want you, right here, right now damnit,” you whine, wrapping your fingers in his hair and almost pulling his face down to you.  
He smirks, a glint in his eye you’ve seen all too much of.  
It’s gonna be a long night.

“Jesus christ Frank, what were you doing last night?” Your hands are placed on your hips, admiring the collection of guns laid out on your bedroom floor.  
It was like weapons cache, complete with ammo and a boxful of intimidating looking grenades.  
“Yeaahhhh, well there wasn’t enough space in my car for the guns I took last night, so I figured I would just put them here until I could move them.”  
“Who needs this many guns? You got a private army I don’t know about Castle?” You turn to look at Frank, leant against your doorframe in all his smoking hot muscly glory, watching you with a curious attitude.  
“Just me baby.” He pushes off of the doorframe and walks over to wrap his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your backside.  
“My man...” you murmur, kissing the tip of his nose.  
Frank chuckles softly, the sound rumbling from his chest and passing through you.  
You ponder a thought for a moment and pluck the courage to speak out loud.  
“Why don’t we go out and get coffee? We haven’t been out in ages, and I want to spend more time with you.” You place your hands on the side of his face, a thumb stroking lovingly over his cheek.  
“If you want to baby, then of course we can.” He kisses your forehead and you smile at him.

New York is a hive of activity mid-afternoon, classy dressed business execs speaking loudly into their phones with an air of arrogance and listing long demands.  
You almost, _almost_ , feel intimidated by the chaos of it all, the crowds and the possibility of the unknown. The fumes in the air fill your lungs and you are reminded again that you are in New York, your home, and suddenly nothing feels intimidating anymore.  
“What about this place?” you suggested, pointing at another hipster looking coffee shop, a smile painted on your face.  
At the moment, you’re trying to find somewhere new, somewhere Frank hasn’t been to before, but so far it really isn’t working out.  
“Nah, I’ve been there too, and besides the coffee really isn’t that great.”  
“Jesus Frank, how many coffee places have you been to in New York?”  
“All of them I’m pretty sure. Job requirement,” he says with a grin, and you roll your eyes, skipping over to link your arm with his.  
“Well, we’re running out of street here. We need to pick somewhere otherwise I might just die from lack of caffeine.”  
He laughs and pulls you in to him closer, your steps in sync. The air is biting at your skin, the weather is even colder than before. You feel it in your bones, despite the fact you’re wrapped up in as many layers as possible, a knitted scarf bustling at the edge of your chin.  
“Hey, look. Here’s somewhere I haven’t been before.” Frank stops in his tracks and points to a kiosk at the edge of the street, nestled to the side of a flower store building.  
“Really Castle?” You turn to him, irritation thick in your voice.  
“What? You said you wanted to go somewhere new,” he teased, tickling your sides.  
You giggled and batted his hands away.  
“I mean, it looks really cute.” You folded your arms across your chest and regarded the kiosk with optimism. Upon closer inspection you could see that they had decorated their little corner with an overhang, strings of white lights and cheery looking chalkboards with huge lists of ‘special’ coffees.  
“There you go!” Frank exclaimed with a grin, kissing your forehead and walking over with your to order.  
You sit at one of the nearby benches, hands firmly clamped around your cheap paper cup, desperately trying to draw warmth from the liquid.  
You take a long drink of coffee, almost spluttering when the fiery liquid burns your tongue.  
Frank laughs at you and you smack his arm, holding one hand over your mouth to try and soothe your scalded tongue.  
“You’re such a dick Castle.”  
“I’ve been told as much,” he says with a grin, taking a sip of the coffee and turning back to you with a smug look. “How has work been?”  
“Oh man. It’s getting increasingly difficult if I’m honest. The more the time goes by, the more antsy I get. And I haven’t found much since the investment documents, just snippets of newspapers from the past couple of years that don’t add up to anything incriminating by themselves.” You sigh heavily. The past few weeks have been almost wrecking your life, your job felt weighted and being there constantly brought down your mood. Frank kept suggesting that you leave, but you were a stubborn woman, and were determined to see the company crash and burn while you gathered as much intel as you could from within.  
“I could get Micro to look into it if you want.” Frank took another sip from his coffee and watched you over the edge of the cup.  
“That would be fantastic thank you Franky.” You hug his sides, squeezing his ribs so much that he has to push you off of him, laughing as he does it.  
“Anything for you sweetheart.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and presses his face into your hair and you relax under his grip.  
A pattering sound could be heard from above and you look out to see heavy rain pelting the streets, sending many running with squeals of horror.  
“Would you look at that, isn’t our luck just doing wonders on this fine day.” At this point, you can’t be irritated, just wildly amused.  
Frank looks at the rain and chuckles.  
“I don’t mind the rain, what about you?”  
You shake your head and smile at him. “I don’t mind the rain either, although it’s always nicer if I’m indoors.”  
Frank presses a kiss to your forehead and squeezes your hand.  
“You wanna go back home?”  
“Sure, why not.” You smirked at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him off of the bench. “Let’s go sunshine.”  
He laughs and picks up the cups, dumping them in the bin and walking with you to the edge of the overhang, hand in yours.  
You take a peek outside, the rain was still pelting the pavement, splattering in puddles and drenching anyone walking under it. The sky was a dark grey, and there were no signs of the weather clearing up anytime soon.  
Before you could say anything, Frank pulled you out of the safety of the overhang so you were both running through the streets.  
The rain hit you, the icy water soaking into your skin and running down your face as your footsteps smacked against the pavement, boots splashing in puddles. Frank keeps his hand clenched tightly in yours, winding you through groups of people with surprising grace as you shriek with laughter.  
With every person you both accidentally bump into, Frank yells an apology over his shoulder, not stopping for a single minute.  
By the time you get into your apartment, bursting through the door while shrill laughter echoes in the empty building, you’re out of breath. You’re completely soaked to the skin in rainwater, a chill running through your body and droplets dripping from strands of your hair onto the tiles.  
Between ragged breaths and giggles you manage to wobble over to the thermostat, turning up the heat and pulling off your boots.  
“All of your clothes, off now.” Frank points to your coat, barely managed to speak because he’s breathing so heavily.  
“Francis Castiglione, we have barely been home two minutes and you’re already attempting to get me into bed?”  
Frank chuckles and shakes his head. “As much as I would love to do that, the real reason is that if you keep those clothes on much longer you’ll freeze to death. So, honey, strip for me please?” He’s smirking at you now, pulling his boots off as he says it, keeping his eyes on you the whole time.  
“Castle, you are enjoying this way too much,” you huff, throwing your coat over the edge of the sofa and peeling your clothes off, leaving them in a damp hump on your wooden floors.  
Frank yanks his shirt and jeans off too, dropping them on top of yours.  
And there you both stood, in your underwear in the middle of the living room.  
“I sure hope no one knocks on the door right now,” you joke, wiping the water from your face.  
“I kinda hope they do.” Frank lunges at you with an evil grin, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and peppering your face with kisses, his cold skin pressed up against yours.  
“Stop it right now Francis!” You shriek, struggling to push him away, a grin pasted onto your face.  
He pulls away from you with a smug look, pecking one last kiss to your lips.  
“You wanna shower?” His face is suggestive, eyebrows wiggling playfully.  
“You just want to see me naked.” You pinched his shoulder and he released his grip on you.  
“Whaaaat? No. Of course not. But that would be a plus...” he teases, stepping closer to you.  
“Fine. I’ll go turn the shower on.” You jut your chin out and edge past him.  
“I’ll put these in the dryer.” He gestures to the pile of laundry in a heap on the floor.  
“See ya in a few.” You attempt to leave but Frank smacks your butt as you walk away, prompting you to turn back around and glare at him. He smirks and walks off, the clothes gathered in his arms.  
You walk into your bathroom, switching the shower on and letting the water warm up a bit as you wait for Frank to make an arrival, shivering on the spot.  
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and for once, you actually look happy, a glow to your skin. Provided, you looked like a drowned rat, but happy nonetheless.  
Frank comes up behind you, pinching your waist and you shriek in surprise, swatting his hands away.  
“Frank!” You scold, folding your arms across your chest protectively.  
“C’mon, why are you still wearing those? Take ‘em off.” He reaches for your bra strap but you smack his hands.  
“Could you stop pestering me for a minute please?” You giggle, watching Frank’s face fall as his advances were shut down.  
You strip off your underwear, hopping into the shower, and Frank follows suit.  
Standing under the hot water with Frank brought you great peace, the pattering of the water against your skin, the heat warming you from the inside out.  
Frank pulls your hair away, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck and you tilt your head forward. He keeps kissing your neck, one hand in your hair and the other on your shoulder.  
He turns you around to face him, water dripping down his face and through his beard. He strokes your cheek, his lips parted slightly, and he speaks:  
“I love you.”  
You almost gasp in shock, but manage to contain it. A million different thoughts whirr around your head at once, but only one manages to form words.  
“I love you too Frank.”  
It’s true, more than you could ever imagine, and you’ve felt it for a long time. You knew ever since you met this man that you loved him, and he deserved love so badly.  
You were willing to give him the love he needed.


	7. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and frank attend a work dinner with your collegues and a potential human trafficker, and a fight breaks out between the two of you.

# Bittersweet

 **One month later**  
You two have grown so much closer, you really feel like you have something special with Frank, especially after you both confessed your love for each other. Frank spends a lot of time at your apartment drinking black coffee, watching trash television and reading books.  
He spends a lot of time with Micro, but never specifies what he’s doing. Sometimes you want to ask, but sometimes you would just rather leave it and enjoy your time together.  
You’ve spent many hours talking to Frank about his family, almost all of them ending up with one of you in tears, or in the other persons arms. Every time he tells you something personal, you know that he hasn’t had the luxury of expressing his thoughts or feelings with anyone.  
You’ve ended up telling him things you promised yourself you would never admit to anyone. He’s met every one of these things with consideration, no harsh judgement and overwhelming understanding. You feel a strong bond between the two of you, and rely on him heavily for emotional support. He does the same thing with you.  
You’re quite hopeful that something will turn up with Dawn Design and very determined to keep at it. Frank on the other hand, not so much. He’s still helping, but his hope is thinning more and more everyday.  
It’s nice to have a simple, yet extremely complicated relationship with him. He often insists that he isn’t good for you, but you brush him off every time, reassuring him you enjoy his company and wouldn’t change it for anything.  
There are brief, very brief, moments where you wonder if you would be better off without him. But the though of life without him now feels cold and empty. You feel that if you expressed this deep seeded need for him to anyone that would surely be mocked.  
There was something about him that set a spark off in your chest. A bright sparkling light that grew with every moment longer you spent with him.  
You also can’t let go of him is because he feels broken. You see him sometimes, staring off into space, seemingly caught in a trance and for a fleeting moment you see weighted pain and guilt at his families death.  
An intense feeling in your heart aches to help him, nurture him and comfort him. You feel protective of him like no other thing, and desperately want to fix him.  
But there are some things you can’t fix.

 **Thursday**  
“So I have this thing this weekend.” You begin slowly, pushing your hair back and pursing your lips. You’re swaddled in a blanket, laptop balanced precariously on your knees. Your legs are laying across Franks lap, one of his hands are wrapped around your ankles, the other one grasping a hefty literature novel.  
“Oh yeah?” Frank lifts his attention away from his book which he’s been buried nose deep in for the past hour.  
“It’s a work dinner.” You explain slowly.  
“Oh.” You watch Franks face twitch, but his emotions were unreadable.  
“I just... don’t want to go alone. And Jared attends every one of these dinners, he’s one of the heads of the company. Could you go with me? Please...” your voice is low and Frank’s face softens, placing his book down and reaching for your hands.  
“Hey, hey, hey. I can go with you, don’t worry. To be honest, I wouldn’t have let you go alone anyway.” He rubs soothing circles over the palms of your hands, smiling reassuringly at you.  
You let out a pent up sigh and nodded, a half smile growing on your lips.  
“Thank you Franky,” you whisper, and he pulls your hand towards him, presing a kiss to your knuckles.  
“No problem sweetheart. You know I love you right?” The posed question and soft smile he wore left a tingling feeling in the back of your neck and you nodded.  
“I love you too.”

 **Saturday**  
Franks driving his rusty-ass car down the roads, one hand on the wheel and the other clasping your hand, resting comfortably in your lap.  
The sun sets in the distance, and the warmth leaves as it’s rays just manage to reach the tips of the buildings and skyscrapers.  
The heating is turned all the way up, and yet the autumn weather still manages to nip at your skin.  
“It should be this next turning here.” You point out and Frank follows your directions with a simple: “yes m’am.”  
You’re a little scared about tonight, the possibility of something going wrong isn’t likely. Yet the threatening edge still remains, and you wonder what you’re more nervous about: you and Frank being in a room with a potential human trafficking tradesman, or him meeting your co-workers. Not to mention the fact that Tina will meet him tonight and probably ask you why you kept her in the dark about Frank for so long.  
“If you pull up here, the restaurant should be around the corner.” Your body stiffens and the anxiety starts to creep in, bubbling away at the pit of your stomach.  
Frank parks his car by the curb and glances around inquisitively.  
“Have you been here before?”  
“Yeah, they host every dinner there. I can’t tell if it’s because they’re too lazy to change it, or it’s some sort of tradition.” You unbuckle your belt and turn to Frank, he’s still checking the streets, most likely for threats.  
“Hey, everything will be fine. Don’t worry.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance, and partly to reassure yourself, and he forces and smile before squeezing your hand back.  
You exit the car, slamming the door shut and shivering as the wind sweeps over your skin, making your hairs stand up on end.  
Frank locks the car and walks over to you, winding his arm around your waist and bringing your body closer to his. You walk in step around the corner, heading for the restaurant.  
“You look fucking amazing tonight sweetheart, Imma keep you real close alright?” he murmurs into your ear, his jaw brushing against your cheek. You giggle and wrap your arm around his waist as well.  
“You don’t look so bad yourself Mr.Castle. I might have to beat the ladies off with a stick,” you tease, watching a smirk develop on his lips.  
“Nah, I only got eyes for you babe.”  
You press your lips together and try to contain the bursting feeling of happiness mixed with fear in your chest, opening the door to the restaurant. It’s a beautiful French place, with the atmosphere of laughter and relaxation.  
You are immediately greeted by the smell of fresh bread and dried herbs, the heat difference setting tingles off in your skin.  
The hostess welcomes you and she brings you into the main hall, the lights glitter overhead and Frank watches everyone with an air of suspicion.  
The hostess directs you to a table in the corner, crowded with about ten different people all bathed in the soft candlelight.  
They all smile and a chorus of your name rings out and you feel welcomed, yet very vulnerable at all the attention you’ve drawn.  
You greet them with smiles and handshakes, these people feel unfamiliar to you, even though you’ve known them and worked with them for years. After finding out about the company and their secrets, you almost suspect everyone for having some sort of involvement with the trafficking.  
“So is this Frank?” Your friend Tina interjects, a dazzling smile on her face, reaching out for Franks hand.  
“Uh, yes it is.”  
You watch Tina with amusement as she eagerly shakes Franks hand and bites her lip, shooting you a look with her moth hung open before sitting next to you.  
“Oh my gosh, Y/N, you didn’t tell me he looked like THAT,” she whispers, watching with infatuation as Frank surveyed the room.  
“Frank? Is this the new man in your life Y/N?” Jared Holds, one of your bosses, sits at the head of the table. His grey hair is neatly combed back, and he has bright, friendly eyes. He is extremely well dressed, clean shaven and neatly put together. His charismatic personality would have on any other occasion have made you feel comfortable, but on this day he made you feel slimy.  
Jared started the design company with a woman called Gillian West over fifteen years ago, and since then the business grew dramatically.  
Dawn Design offered whole house remodels with friendly and expert service, but at the rates they charged it would only be available to the highest paying clients in New York.  
The company was extremely popular amongst bachelor billionaires and successful surgeons, looking to display their wealth through pricy interior in a way no other company could.  
Business was booming, more of the worlds richest were coming to New York and Dawn Design was closing in over America, plans to make more business buildings and hire more employees were in the works, despite the fact Jared and Gillian had been adamant to keep the business in one place.  
Jared was usually the front man, attending dinners and visiting the different places of business in the city, he was a lot more involved. Gillian was more like a ghost  
You feel your muscles clench up and try to act welcoming, forcing out a dry laugh and licking your lips.  
“Well, you could call him that. We’ve been dating for quite some time now.” You smile awkwardly at Frank and he nods his head.  
“Yes, you have quite a woman here. I would count your company lucky to have her working for you. Her passion for her job is something else.” Franks quite charismatic when he wants to be, him singing your praises makes your heart lift and he leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek. You feel your face redden, and you feel like a schoolgirl with her crush.  
Jared watches you and Frank with mild amusement, a smile playing on his lips. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. His face comes into the light a bit more, his faint wrinkles shadowed and his ice blue eyes seemed to wander over you with admiration.  
“Yes, you are very right there. Y/N is one of the best in the business, which is why she’s here tonight. She has a knack for talking to people, making transactions and a great eye for design. She would probably deny all of this if you asked her.” Jared half-smiles at you and can’t help but feel disgusted by his presence.  
The only thing thats going through your mind at the moment is how many people he is hurting right now, how many people are being traded off to do horrible things. And you can’t help but feel betrayed by him in some way, he was an admirable figure to you at one point and now he has been reduced to the villain in your mind.  
“Yeah I would agree with you on that one!” Frank laughs places his arm around your waist and pulls you slightly towards him, and you laugh along with him.  
“So what would you all like to order tonight?” A waiter appears, almost from thin air and startles you.  
A discussion takes place on the table and everyone places their order, expensive French wine in ice buckets, courtesy of Dawn Design of course.  
By the time the wait gets to Frank, he’s refusing alcohol and insisting on water, much to Jared’s dismay.  
“No really, I would prefer not to drink anything. Besides, I’m the designated driver for this one here,” Frank jokes lightly, but you know he would never risk drinking while driving, especially on a night like this, with you.  
“Ah, very responsible of you Frank. I admire that.” Jared nods, almost in approval of Franks choice.  
Frank goes silent and you suspect he’s trying to figure Jared out, pick apart every detail about him. Yet nothing seems out of the ordinary, and that makes you feel more suspicious.

You’re about fifty minutes into the dinner and so far everything is going well. Jared has managed turn every light-hearted question about his past or past career into a speech about how much he loves his job and his life. If you’re honest, it’s sickening to listen to.  
Charlene, the woman next to Frank, has been watching him with something you could only describe as lust. Frank has not spoken often, but every time he has she listened with fake interest and every time she spoke to him she angled her chest downwards.  
Charlene didn’t usually bother you as much, but how she talked to Frank got on your nerves slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.  
She was very popular with almost every mans she came across, despite having a different husband every year.  
“I never thought I’d see the day where Y/N brought us a boyfriend of hers to meet,” Charlene drawled, side eying you with a mocking smile.  
You can feel your brow furrowing, and have to hold back a snarl from escaping your lips. She’s testing you for some reason, and you feel attacked by the comment. She sips her wine and gives you a sly look.  
You run your tongue over your top lip and lean your head forward, trying to be as intimidating as you could with everyone watching you.  
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” You asked dryly, eyeing her as she gave no reaction. Charlene had been toying with you for the past couple of week, for reasons unknown to you, and you had chosen to ignore her half-assed insults, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. Especially not in front of Frank.  
“Nothing sweetie. It’s just that I haven’t seen you with another man since Thomas or whatever his name was. I thought that you’d given up after a while.”  
Everyones watching in suspense, leaning forward to catch a snippet on the conversation. After the many conversations you’ve had with your co-workers over the past few months, it’s clear to you that Charlene is getting on everyone’s nerves. You can practically feel Tina next to you encouraging you to bite back, and you push down the fear in your stomach and steady your trembling fingers.  
“Well, *sweetie*, I apologise if I didn’t quite meet your dating standards. I suppose I have a lot to live up to, considering the amount of husbands you’ve had. Or were those boyfriends in between? I could never really tell. Whatever you’re doing though, you sure do have a way with men. I’m sure Neil can confirm that for you.” You pick up your wine glass and cast a harrowing glare down to the other end of the table, taking a long sip to hide your proud smile. Neil clears his throat in discomfort and evades your gaze, pushing his food around his plate.  
Frank has an impressed look on his face and he raises his eyebrows and lets out a long breath. His eyes flit from you to Charlene who by this point looks like she would smash her plate across your face given half the chance.  
And, to be honest, you wouldn’t really blame her. It’s no secret that her and Neil have been having an affair in the middle of her millionth divorce, but no one has voiced that they’ve seen them together.  
Jared purses his lips, stopping what he’s doing, his hands suspended in the motion of cutting his steak.  
Charlene scrunches up her napkin between her fingers until her knuckles turn white and you suspect that your presence is no longer wanted. You cast a glance around the table to see everyone sheepishly staring at the table, no one uttering a single word. The silence fills the air with unbearable awkwardness, so you decide to leave.  
You stand up and push your chair back, gathering up your coat in your arms and turning to face the table.  
“Well it has certainly been a lovely night, thank you very much Jared for bringing us out tonight, but I’m afraid me and Frank have to leave now. Have a great night everyone.” You smile with satisfaction and beckon Frank to go with you. He raises to his feet reluctantly and follows you out of the restaurant. You feel liberated and a little evil, but it feels deserving.  
As soon as you’re out of the doors and into the freezing night air, Frank lets out a chuckle and slings his arm around your waist, his hand resting comfortably on your backside, walking to the car at a steady pace.  
“What?” You ask him with a smile, knowing full well what he’s laughing at.  
“I didn’t know you were such a bitch Y/N,” Frank teases, watching you with interest out of glinting eyes.  
“Yeah well, I can be when I want to. I’ve really wanted to say that to her for ages. Knock her off of her slutty high horse and watch her face get that mortified expression. And besides, that dinner was getting increasingly dull and Jared didn’t slip up on anything. A bit of a wasted trip really.”  
“Ah, well, I wouldn’t really call it that. We don’t know if Jared’s involved yet and I think I’ve seen you come out of your shell tonight. You are *very* attractive when you’re antagonising someone.” Frank grins widely and you feel like you’ve accomplished something by making him smile so wide.  
“You‘re gonna have to wait awhile until I’m terrorising someone again Castle.” You poke his ribs and lean your head on his shoulder.  
Frank tenses up and you look at him quizzically, his jaw stiffening and eyes fixated ahead.  
“Whats wrong Frank?” You inquire, placing a hand on his chest. Frank sighs and his eyes cast a saddened look.  
“I just feel bad, y’know? That I didn’t take you anywhere fancy like that before. I should have done that, you deserve that kind of treatment.”  
The way he expresses his thoughts, he seems genuinely regretful and you feel warmed by this.  
“Oh Frank, don’t worry about that kind of thing. I enjoy what we have, whatever it is. I don’t need fancy lobster and shitty expensive wine to be happy. I’m fine with just you.” You kiss his cheek and he smiles at you.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Hell yeah cowboy.”

You’re undressing in your bedroom, listening to Frank talk intensely with someone on the phone, his body hunched over in the corner of the room. He ends the call and runs his hand over his face, turning back to face you.  
“Hey who was that?” You ask, shuffling over to sit on your bed, pulling your hair out of your up-do and letting it hang loosely over you shoulder.  
“Micro. Got some business on Tuesday,” Frank answers gruffly before dropping to the edge of the bed. You wince and try to brush the discomforting feeling you just got away.  
You scratch your neck and stare at your hands in your lap. Talking to Micro could only mean one thing, especially if Frank evades answering further. Micro probably has new targets for Frank, and that thought makes you feel extremely uneasy, like you’re caught up in the wrong place. Getting your hands into business you shouldn’t be meddling with. You know better than to ask what he’s going to do, but you just can’t help it.  
“Is it more people to...” you trail off, hoping that the reaction you get from Frank will confirm your suspicions. His eyes flit from yours to the ground, and he doesn’t respond. Just grunts and slides onto the bed, pulling you down onto his chest. You tense up in his grip, your muscles resisting him.  
You grit your teeth and try to push the feeling back, but it just keeps popping up over and over. It can’t seem to go away and you sort of don’t want it to. You feel obligated. To question Frank.  
“Do you really have to go on Tuesday?” You inquire, biting your lip as you wait for his response. He gives you a quizzical look, like he’s catching onto what you’ll say next.  
“Of course I have to Y/N. I thought you understood that.”  
“I do Frank, of course I do. I just wonder whether killing those people like that... whether it’s really your best option.”  
Franks face forms into disgust, and he moves away from you. His posture has completely changed and you can tell he feels threatened, jutting his chin you and curling his lip upwards.  
“What other option do I have exactly? What other choice do I have? You want me to sit on the sidelines? While my families killers run loose in this city? These people are bad people, they deserve this. And you know damn well I can’t rest properly, I can’t live properly, until I have finished what I set out to do. They started this Y/N, I sure as hell am gonna finish it.”  
You shift uncomfortably as his heavy gaze rests on you, and you feel instant regret that you said anything in the first place. But you can’t stop now, everything that’s been building up inside you for weeks is just dying to be said.  
“What if I don’t want you to do this anymore? What would you say then?” You know these are risky questions to ask, but at the same time you just can’t help but ask them. You know what his response is too. Frank scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief.  
“Y/N, you know how much I care for you. We have talked about this a lot me and you, I have explained so many times what their deaths meant to me. What delivering the justice they deserve meant to me. Do not challenge me on this one. This is a whole different thing that you have no understanding with.”  
“No understanding? Frank, are you being serious? Are you forgetting all of the things we have shared with each other? All of the things you have told me? Frank, I completely understand why you’re doing this. What happened to you and your family is beyond painful and traumatic to the point where I felt like a piece of me had died when you told me those stories. And yes, a lot of these people deserve what they get. But Frank, you are putting yourself in extreme danger. Frank...” you pause and sniff, holding back your tears, “I’m so fucking scared Frank. I’m fucking terrified for you. To know that you go out there and you do what you do without any consideration for yourself is killing me. I don’t want you to turn up again, half- beaten to death or even dead. Oh god Frank, what if you die? Do you know what that would do to me? I would have to carry that with me the rest of my life, knowing that I could have prevented that if I had tried. I see what this is doing to you and it’s not good. Not good at all. You’re just beating yourself up for their deaths, and that’s no way to live. Not at all. Frank, I’m begging you, don’t do this. You’re torturing yourself.”  
At this point, tears are rolling down your cheeks and you feel like you’ve lost your power, Frank was just sat there in silence with a blank expression on his face. He listened to every word you said in excruciating detail, but he gave you no reply.  
Frank stays rooted to his spot and you sit there, shuddering in the sudden chill of the room as your sobs ring out.  
“Frank,” your voice is a hoarse whisper and you reach out to tough his arm and turns to stare at you, an unreadable expression on his face.  
“If you don’t want to worry about me, you won’t have to. I won’t put you in anymore danger.” He rises to his feet and gets dressed, and panic rises in you quicker than it has ever done in your entire life.  
“No, Frank.” You rush to block the door of your room as Frank tries to leave and he glares at you, anger burning in his eyes.  
“Don’t leave me now.” Your voice is breaking, fresh tears brimming in your eyes. He pushes you aside with considerable force and continues to walk out. You race ahead again, jumping in front of him and pushing your hands against his chest.  
“Frank fucking Castle you do not get to just walk out of here. You do not just get to walk out of my life like this,” you shout, pounding his chest with one of your hands.  
“Get out of my way,” he growls, anger brewing on his face.  
“No. Not after everything thats happened. I need you Frank,” your voice lowers, your eyes pleading with him, letting out heaved sobs.  
“I said _get out of my way_ ,” he’s snarling now, and you’re terrified. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but his demeanour is intimidating.  
Your arms drop to your side and you watch him with pity. He moves past you without making a sound and walks out of your apartment, closing the door with a slam.  
A few options arise in your mind and you grab your coat and pull your shoes on, running down the hallway and thumping down the stairs until you get outside.  
You can see him getting into his car and he sees you too, turning to meet your red face with an apologetic look and his eyes watering.  
“Frank... please...” you whisper, your breath clouding the night air and your lip trembling.  
He takes one last look at you and slides into his car, starting the engine up and driving off. You chase after it, desperately calling his name out only to have your words thrown back in your face by the smell of gasoline and the icy wind.  
You crouch to the floor, watching his car disappear down the road and let the burning feeling in your lungs overtake your body, your cries echoing down the dark road as you feel your heart being ripped from your chest.  
“Frank...” your voice calls out softly one more time and you drop to the floor, feeling more hopeless than ever.


	8. Birthday Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s your birthday, but you don’t feel happy, or feel like celebrating. You get an unexpected vistor early in the morning...

# Bittersweet

 **nine days later- your birthday 3:26am**  
It’s your birthday today.  
But you don’t feel happy, and certainly don’t feel like celebrating anything. Since Franks disappearance, you feel hollow. The way you guys left things feels wrong, and it’s whats ultimately making you feel worse.  
You’ve tried calling him a million times, leaving frantic and apologetic voicemails and frequently texting him. You don’t know Micros number, so calling him was out of the question.  
You’ve scanned the news everyday, waiting to hear that he was found dead in some alley somewhere, the absolute shit beaten out of him. So far, nothing, but that doesn’t give you a lot of hope either.  
So you spend your birthday alone, the minute the clock turned to be 12am you been fantasising that Frank would be with you right now, peppering kisses along your jaw and whispering happy birthday. Arguing with him that you didn’t want presents, that you just wanted to spend the day with him in your pyjamas drinking crappy champagne and eating junk food.  
The aching in your chest hasn’t gone away, and you feel annoyed at yourself. The fact that you’re so hung up on Frank irritates the hell out of you, the fact that he still has power over you even when he’s not here is worse.  
Your mood was showing when you were at the office finding new clients too.  
Charlene wasn’t helping either, what you said at the dinner got around the office surprisingly quickly and ever since her snide remarks and dirty looks had gotten worse. You got so fed up with her that you ended up tossing a file at her head and telling her to ‘go suck a dick, considering that’s what you’re best at.’  
It got so bad that your director called you into his office to ask if you had any ‘lady problems’ and politely asking if you would take the next few days off and refrain from telling your co-workers to ‘suck dicks’. You left his room traumatised and wishing the ground would swallow you whole.  
When the screen rolls to the credits, you don’t move. You just stare at the TV, willing something magical to happen and cursing when it doesn’t.  
And for the first time since Frank left, you cry. You kept in in the entire time, trying to keep it together and not let your emotions overrun you, trying so badly not to be so self-pitying. But today, you can’t help it.  
You let out one last sob, your body shuddering and let out a guilted sigh.  
The more you lie there, the more unbearable it gets, so you decide to busy yourself, since you clearly won’t be sleeping tonight.  
You haven’t slept properly in days, having nightmares about Frank dying. You wish more than anything to be next to him again, to hold him and you can’t.  
You turn off your television and clean away the food and folding the blankets.  
You wonder whether in another life you would have met Frank and he wouldn’t have had all this happen to him, and he wouldn’t have to do all this.  
Your phone rings and you check the caller ID, a fragment of hope in your chest that it would be Frank, but it’s just Tina.  
“Hey girl! Happy birthday sweetie! I saw you post about the movie, figured I might call you, wish you happy birthday. How are you?”  
“I’m... I feel like shit to be honest.”  
“He still hasn’t called?” She sounds irritated, you can understand though, Tina is quite protective.  
You sigh heavily. “Nope. Nothing.”  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come over tomorrow?”  
“Honestly, I’d rather be alone. Don’t feel like celebrating anything.”  
“What did you guys fight about again?” The question is seemingly innocent, a casual conversation between best friends about boyfriends. But you freeze up, almost not replying.  
"He... he was a broken man with bad habits. And he wouldn’t drop them, even though it was killing him. You always have these stories, y’know, where the girl convinces the guy that he can change. I just thought I could fix him. I guess... that doesn't always happen. And I feel powerless."  
There’s a long sigh that echoes down the phone and Tina sounds like she’s about to give you a life lesson.  
“Thats bullshit you know. You can't fix a person and you can't change them. You can encourage them to become better, to improve. You can only accept who they are with a half a heart knowing that they'll probably do something stupid again until they can learn from their mistakes. But you can’t force them to become something better if they aren’t ready to do what’s necessary themselves. It’s something you shouldn’t beat yourself up for though, ok? Obviously, this guy has some deep rooted issues that he might need to sort out by himself, and if he shows up again, just try to be there for him. It’s all you can do.”  
You sniff, wiping your nose and trying to cover up how you feel at the moment.  
“Thank you so much Tina.”  
“You’re welcome honey. Now, get some rest and relax, it is your birthday after all.” She hangs up, leaving the silence to overtake you again, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.  
What Tina said leaves you to rearrange your entire thinking process when it comes to Frank, and you were very concerned that you would never be able to assert this newfound revelation into your own life.  
At this point, you’re willing to do anything to have another chance with Frank. All you want is a sign.  
The sound of the door slamming closed makes you yelp in surprise and you spin around to see Frank stood there.  
He’s got a a shit load of bruises, and huge cuts along his face, but they’re old and from what you can see he’s not suffering from any major injury. He looks really tired, huge dark circles under his eyes and he’s wearing a regretful expression. Your eyes wander over him and you notice he’s clutching a bunch of flowers in one hand and a badly wrapped present in the other.  
“Happy birthday princess.” He forces a pained smile and swallows hard.  
Your frozen to the ground with your mouth hung open, you feet refusing to move from this spot. You feel relief wash over you at first, but then soon become overcome with anger.  
“Where the fuck did you go Castle? Nine days you left me without any call or text to say you were fine. I was checking the news everyday to see if you had died. Do you know how difficult that was for me? Do you Frank?” You cross your arms over your chest and chew the inside of your cheek.  
“I’m so sorry Y/N. I know I should have called, I know, but I didn’t know what to say or how you’d react, whether you’d just end the call with me as soon as I said one word. I felt like I couldn’t be with you because I love you so much that I was afraid to be around you... because I didn't want you in danger. But I felt so shitty and I missed you too much. Please forgive me, please...” he pleads with you, his voice laced with pain.  
You clench your jaw and push back a smile, he looks so stupid, stood there with flowers and a present and a puppy dog look on his face.  
You take a hesitant step forward before breaking into a run and jumping into Franks embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stumbles backwards and regains his balance with a soft chuckle, supporting your weight with his arms.  
Your whimpers are muffled by his coat and your grip tightens around him before letting him go and taking a step back, cradling his face gently.  
“You’re such an asshole.”  
“Sorry ma’am,” Frank says with a suppressed laugh.  
“How are you? Are you ok? Any major injuries?” Your eyes dart around his face, stroking a finger over his bruises and watching his lips curve into a smile.  
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”  
You heave a sigh of relief and hug him again, tighter this time without the intention of letting him go. He breathes heavily into your hair and you feel so blessed, to have him back in one piece, breathing and alive in your very arms.  
“Sweetheart, you’re killing me here.”  
“Sorry,” you mumble, releasing him and stepping back, “I’m just so glad you’re actually alive Franky.”  
“I missed you so much baby,” Frank kisses you softly, as if he didn’t want you to break.  
“I missed you too, you piece of shit,” you say through tight lips and Frank chuckles.  
You take a deep breath and cradle his head in your hands. “I love you.”  
“I love you too.” He kisses your hair with a gentle smile playing on his lips, his breath soft against your face.  
You grip his shoulder tightly and watch as Franks eyes slowly droop closed. He obviously hasn’t slept in awhile, the dark circles evident of that, and his whole body seems to waver under the weight of exhaustion.  
“Jesus Castle, when was the last time you slept?” You brush his hair back and watch him with a titled head.  
“I could ask you the same thing sweetheart. I didn’t do that to you did I?” He looks worried, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone where your obvious dark circles were themselves.  
“It doesn’t matter. C’mon, lets go get some sleep.” You intertwine your fingers with his and lead him into your bedroom, motioning for him to take his clothes off as you strip down to your underwear.  
A gasp catches in your throat when Frank pulls his shirt off, revealing more huge purple bruises by the dozen and a multiple bandages in different places. Tears well up in your eyes and you close the space between you, timidly running your hands over his injuries and staring at the scars from the stab wounds you stitched up.  
“Frank...” you whisper softly, your hands still resting on his chest. Frank cups your face and tilts it up to meet his. He kisses you and rests his face in your hair, letting out a happy hum.  
“I just wanna hold you baby,” he murmurs into your hair, his hands running over your thighs, thumbs brushing against your stretch marks.  
You smile at him and kiss his chin, running your hands down his arms and pulling at his fingers you join you in bed.  
You clamber under the duvet and lie down, Franks head rests on your chest, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist.  
You massage his head, rubbing soothing circles over the various scars and scrapes. He grunts appreciatively and nuzzles his head into your breasts, his ear pressed to your skin listening to your breathing.  
You feel warm inside, and your thoughts clamour back into your head, but more hopeful this time. You feel thankful for Frank being back, but also so that you don’t have to be alone anymore.  
“Frank?”  
“Hm?”  
“Why’d you go?” Your voice cracks as the pain settles in the pit of your stomach, hard-hitting and relentless, your anxiety was clawing desperately for answers.  
“I... don't know. I panicked. I couldn’t handle you being so worried, the fact that I was also putting you in danger was killing me. I thought that if I put enough distance between you and me you'd be safer, that you'd be better off without me But after a short while I started missing you. And I heard your voicemails and saw your texts and it broke my heart. You sounded like you were in so much pain and I couldn't take being away from you anymore. I realised me being away was doing you more harm than good. I knew that if I wanted you, that I would just going to have to work hard to make sure your safe. I will do everything in my power to protect you. But I can't change what I do.”  
“And I don't expect you to Frank. I accept that this is what you want to do, but it doesn't mean that I like it either.”  
“Thank you princess, for understanding.”  
He’s silent for a while, his breathing long and calming. He closes his eyes, sucking in a breath and furrowing his eyebrows together. “I killed them all.” His voice is almost scratchy against the air, his words bearing the weight of a truck on your mind.  
You freeze up, hand still in his hair, breathing shallow. Your chest seizes up and for a minute you can’t think.  
“What do you mean?” The question is tentative, and you hope the overwhelming worry doesn’t show in your voice.  
“Everyone who had anything to do with my families murder. They’re all dead now. I finished what I started months ago. I don’t know why I wasn’t going to tell you that... I didn’t want to scare you. But... I can’t lie to you. But it’s done, they're all dead. I don't know what to do with myself anymore.”  
He sounds wounded, in a way you could never fully describe properly. He had fulfilled his wish, to rid the earth of his families murderers, yet he was not happy. Of course, how could he be happy? His family was still dead, there was nothing he could do that would ever change that.  
He finished his mission, but at what cost? What had it cost him, emotionally, physically, mentally? Should this bring him peace? Will he ever be peaceful?  
You don’t know why these thoughts are whittling around in your head right now, but they are, and as you lie there with Frank half-asleep on top of you the only thing you could do was be content that he was home.  
You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours before Frank wakes you from your slumber, desperately calling out in his sleep.  
You prop yourself up on you elbows and gently touch his his shoulder. He cries out in pain and you shuffle over to him.  
“Frank? Frank!” You whisper softly, shaking him, and his eyelids jump open. He looks around the room in panic, his eyes flitting over every surrounding before settling back on you, a worry-stricken expression.  
“You... you... died I couldn’t protect you...” he mumbles, tight pain in his voice, and he reaches out to touch your face tenderly, his fingers hovering just above your skin. His eyes are wide, tears forming and his suffering is so visible it physically hurts you.  
You rest your hand on his, pressing it to the side of your face with compassion in your heart.  
“You’re ok Frank. I’m ok. You don’t have to worry,” you murmur, placing a hand on his chest to feel his quickened heartbeat vibrate through your fingers.  
He lets out a hushed whine, dropping to the pillows and breathing heavily though his nose.  
You slide down to face him, clutching his head in your hands.  
“I love you Frank. I’m ok, I promise. I promise baby,” you whisper as softly as you can, running a hand down his face to brush against his lip. He whimpers and buries his head in your chest and you feel a little piece of yourself die with his sorrow.  
It’s not like he hasn’t had a nightmare before, he had them a lot. He would frequently wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes crying out, sometimes saying names, usually the names of his family or your name. Every time it happened, you were there to comfort him, hold him close as the pain subsided and his grief turned into exhaustion, falling into restless slumber.  
This time it felt different, however. You felt more optimistic that maybe, just maybe, time would heal him.

You awake to the smell of fresh coffee and what seemed to be pancakes. Confused, you sit upwards, taking in your surroundings and wondering who the hell could be making pancakes at you house. You glanced at the clock; three thirty in the afternoon.  
Frank. He was back.  
You shook your head, wondering how such an important detail has skipped through your mind.  
Frank makes an appearance in your doorway, fully dressed in an olive tee and jeans, and his face just lights up when he sees you awake. A goofy grin grows on his lips and he makes his way inside.  
“Good afternoon princess. Looks like you needed that sleep more than I did,” he jokes, placing a tray of food in front of you. Pancakes, strawberries and cream, with coffee that smells heavenly. And in the corner of the tray is the gift he brought you last night, wrapped in silver paper.  
“What’s all this?” You pull the tray closer to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and you try to contain a feeling of overwhelming happiness.  
“I woke up not too long ago, thought I would make you some food. Considering it is your birthday after all...” he climbs onto the bed to sit next to you, stroking your cheek and leaning in close to brush his nose against yours. “Happy birthday sweetheart,” he whispers, and you gaze at his soft brown eyes, half-closed and poignant.  
You placed the tray on the bedside table and turned to him, grabbing his hand.  
“I missed you Frank... so much.” You bite hard on your lip to stop the tears that are almost rolling down your face, you hate feeling vulnerable, but Frank would never criticise you for it.  
“I’m so sorry I left like that, I don’t think I can ever make up for it. And I promise I will never do it again,” he laments, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your head, staring sadly into your eyes.  
“Being here and making me food is enough,” you joke lightly, sniffing and wiping your nose. “How are you feeling? After last night?” You rest your hand on his arm, smiling reassuringly at him.  
His face falls and he drops his arm down, casts his eyes to the bedding and fiddling with the duvet.  
“I... I don’t know honestly. I had a nightmare you died and it scared the shit outta me. I don’t ever want to leave you again, I’m always going to be here for you from now on.” He drags his eyes up to you and your heart shatters.  
“Me too. I’m always here for you Frank, no matter what happens.” You take a pause and look at him again.  
“Do you think it will get easier for you?”  
The question is looming, and you swear it casts a shadow over him.  
He sighs and his expression lifts slightly, a steady gaze resting on your face.  
“No... yes. I think it will get easier. Eventually. And especially if I have you in my life.” He caresses you chin and you smile softly at him.  
Your gaze settles on the present he got you, a shining object in the room.  
“I should probably open this huh?” You pick it up and wave it in his face and he chuckles. It’s a little more weighted than you expected, and you almost drop it.  
“Yeah, well, it isn’t anything romantic, so don’t get your hopes up.” He’s already grinning, leaving you to stare at him suspiciously.  
Opening the gift reveals that he’s given you a hand gun, and your shocked expression wanders to him.  
“I just figured, y’know, you should learn to protect yourself. I’ll teach you to shoot too. I know it isn’t would you would have wanted, but-“  
You threw your arms around him, your laughter echoing in the room.  
“I love it.”  
He relaxes under your grip, his shoulders dropping and relief cascades over you as you realise, finally, that he isn’t going anywhere without you.


	9. All I Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David makes a discovery in your investigation, and a mission is launched, much to Frank’s disapproval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I lost but baby you’re all I got: All I got- Oliver Tree

# Bittersweet

It’s a Sunday afternoon, your only day off this week and life has been very busy. Between meeting up with David and Frank to spend nights searching for dirt on Dawn Design and working on her newest (and very irritating) high class client, you feel like you’re running at a million miles per hour with no rest.  
But you’re getting closer to something, and it’s a thrilling feeling.  
You’ve been scrubbing relentlessly at your kitchen counters for the past twenty minutes, you haven’t had a chance to clean in weeks and your apartment is more of a mess than it normally is.  
Your phone rings suddenly and you jump out of your skin in shock, dropping the cloth your holding to the floor. You hastily wipe your hands on your jeans and scramble to pick up your phone when you see the caller ID as David.  
“Hey Dave, what’s up?” You’re short on breath and lean against the counter to calm yourself.  
“I got something for you,” you can tell he’s smiling down the line by the way he says it, “you should get over to my house immediately. I already called Frank, he’s on his way. It’s big Y/N.”  
“Oh my god that’s great news. I’ll be right over.” You end the call and roll your head back, a soft “yes!” escaping your lips. This is what you’d been waiting to hear for so long.  
You took a quick shower and changed into some clean clothes you just washed. The car journey there felt like eternity, even though you went over the speed limit a couple of times.  
You exited your car and basically ran up to his front door, barely having to knock before he opened it, hair a lot more wild than normal and a huge grin on his face.  
He looks a bit worn down, probably because he’s spent a lot of time on your case. Ever since his mission with Frank ended, he’s been searching for something to help with. He had a taste for justice, and you offered him something else to work on.  
His hair is sticking up in places, like he slept at his desk, but his eyes are bright with excitement David is still wearing the same bathrobe you saw him in two days ago, and to be honest you’re not really surprised.  
“Come in.” He beckons you inside and you followed him into your office where Frank was already stood, his back to the wall with his arms folded across his face and a skeptical look on his face.  
Upon seeing you, his face lights up and he pushes himself off of the wall to place a soft kiss on your lips, hands on your waist.  
“Hey there,” he murmurs in your ear and although you’d only just seen him yesterday, you’ve still missed him.  
He hasn’t quite got around to moving in with you just yet, you don’t know what’s holding him back, but whatever it is you want it to go away so badly. He spends a lot of nights at your apartment, sometimes at his place, but he can’t seem to stay away from you for very long. And you liked that about him.  
“If you guys could stop making out for a second, there’s the information that I found-“ David rolls his eyes and slides his chair across the floor to sit in front of his desk, pulling up various tabs across his monitors.  
“Ok, we’re listening. What did you find?” You inquired over his shoulder, watching in fascination as his fingers tapped speedily over the keyboard.  
You’re heart was beating so fast, your breath caught in your throat as you waited in anticipation for the information he has.  
“So we’ve been looking at the people in charge, their e-mails and databases and found nothing. And we found none of their bank records online, the ones for charities or trading. So I was thinking... what if their bank records aren’t online? I found some e-mails mentioning a secure storage facility, so what if they’re stored there? No one would ask questions, anything could be in those storage units including-“  
“Massively incriminating sales evidence?” You pause for a second, pieces of the puzzle fitting together, “It would make sense though, you don’t want them online for everyone to see... you put them in one location... oh my god. That’s it!” You clap your hands together in glee and rock back on your heels.  
“What’s it?” Frank questions hesitantly watching you with a suspicious look on his face.  
“I go into the storage unit. I just have to-“  
“Woah, woah, woah. No one said anything about you going in, especially alone. I can’t let you put yourself in danger here. I just can’t.” Frank looks stressed about this whole ordeal, his face contorted into extreme worry.  
“First of all, neither of you can go in. Frank, you’re a known murderer, sorry, and Dave looks like he’s been high for the past three days. I’m a part of the company, I do their errands sometimes, and I’m a leading employee, so it wouldn’t be completely out of the ordinary if I went.”  
You fold your arms and watch Frank, he looks on the fence about the whole thing.  
“I don’t know if-”  
“Listen, I’m going into a storage unit, it won’t be dangerous. There are security guards there, and I can bring my gun. I’m a pretty good shot, you said so yourself,” his eyes widen in horror and you place your hands on his arms, “not that it will come to that. My point is, I’m completely safe. And I can take one of those earpieces...”  
You’re really trying to sell it to him, and he looks almost convinced, brows furrowed as he concentrates on his thoughts.  
“She’s right,” David quips, head resting on one of his hands and looking at them from a slanted angle.  
Frank sighs and his shoulders drop, his nose scrunching up. You know he doesn’t like the plan, the fact you are going alone. His nightmares about you being hurt is what’s fuelling this fear of his, and you completely understand. But this was something that you had to do.  
“Fine. But one thing goes wrong and you leave immediately. You got that?” He runs a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your head and he watches you intensely with worried eyes.  
You nod and bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling too much.  
“That’s cool and all that you’re having your moment, but how you propose you enter the facility itself? The keycard numbers are logged in online, so I can make you one of those to take with you. But how do you get inside the building?” David interrupts them and you turn around to see him tapping the desk impatiently.  
“I still have some papers with Jared’s signature on them., we can copy it. I bring in my company ID and a fake report with his signature on it and claim he asked me to come in and get some files. You can put a scan of the fake report online too. Can you hack their database to find out which unit is theirs?”  
“Of course.”  
A wide grin spreads across your face and you lean on David’s desk.“Then that’s it. We do it, and we do it today.”

“You still good?”  
Frank’s voice echos down your earpiece, and you feel a little agitated by his constant check ins, but at the same time it was sweet.  
You’re parked outside the facility, it’s a huge stone building with wide glass windows in the middle of nowhere. You’re checking yourself out in the mirror and smoothing down your blouse, breathing steadily to calm your frantic nerves.  
“I’m good.”  
Your hand wanders into your bag to rest on your gun, the cold metal against your sweaty palms is soothing, and you pray you don’t have to use it on anyone.  
You shut your compact mirror and toss it into your bag, sliding out of the car and slinging your bag over your shoulder, locking the car behind you.  
“I’m going in now.”  
“Alright sweetheart. Be safe. I know you can do this.”  
You huff a sigh before pushing the huge glass doors, the waft of stale air and strong mints burning your nose.  
The entranceway is slightly darker than it should be, the light from outside is the main thing brightening the room. The colour scheme is grey, and not much else, with the odd exception of fake fern plants by the doors.  
There’s a small waiting area to the side of you where two businessmen have a heated conversation, but they haven’t noticed you yet.  
There’s hardly anyone at the front desk thankfully, the two female receptionists there looked  
You glance around the room nervously, your eyes wandering from the stone-faced security guards to the cameras.  
“We can see you now Y/N, so relax. Just go up to the front desk and ask to see unit forty-two. They’ll ask you for an ID and a signature and you show them. You got that?” Davids steady voice calmed you, and you could only imagine Frank right now, hunched over with his hands clasped together, watching you through the cameras anxiously.  
You nod and make your way over to a friendly looking brunette woman, resting your elbows on the desk to talk to her.  
“I’m here to see unit forty-two?” You smile sweetly at her and force the sparking worry in your stomach down.  
“Keycard, name and approval?” She looks up from her computer to you, and you hastily pull the folder from your bag with Jared’s signature on it and place the keycard David made next to it, telling her your name as you go.  
She reads through the approval and scans the keycard, and your heart skips a beat. You’re breathing seems to slow, and the tips of your fingers tingle.  
She types something in and gives you a curt nod before handing your things back.  
“Unit forty-two,” she announces, beckoning one of the guards over to you.  
A wave of relief washes over you, your legs almost wobbling as you turn to the guard.  
It’s an uncomfortably silent walk to the room, but you’re thankful when you arrive, scanning the key and entering the room, leaving the guard behind.  
Once the doors closed, you rest against the wall and let out a pent up sigh.  
“You doing ok?” Frank’s gravelly voice down the line sends shivers through your back and you push yourself off of the wall, pushing your hair back and clearing your throat.  
The room smelt like ink and there was a thin layer of dust over the cabinets neatly stacked against the wooden panelled walls, lit by a sharp white light.  
“I’m great. Just tell me what to look for. There is a _lot_ of filing cabinets here. This is probably, like, fifteen years worth of paperwork?” Your eyes cast around the room to the rows of similar looking filing cabinets, all an ugly dark cream colour.  
“The one you’re probably labelled ‘ingoing and outgoing payments’ or something.”  
You walk to the nearest cabinet and check the top, ‘employees’, nope. The next one is ‘stock’, not that one either.  
The next one reads ‘transactions with third parties’, your heartbeat quickens and you quickly open the top drawer, glancing over all of the musty files.  
“Found it. Guys, there is multiple drawers in this thing, and they go back for years.” You pull out a folder from two years ago and leaf through it, noting all of the names you come across.  
“If we’re guessing that they’re using the charities names to cover up, there should be folders for that. They’re probably-“  
“Found them. There’s a folder for each year the company has been active.” You thumb through the pages, scouting over the names of charities you know are real and the ones you haven’t seen before. After a few moments of silence and heavy breathing from their end, Frank speaks up.  
“Find anything?”  
“Yup, just gimme a minute.” You plant yourself on the floor and spread the sheets out in front of you, running your finger over the names and spotting a few recurring ones.  
“Over the past three years they’ve made multiple transactions back and forth with the same three names, ‘Miller’s Trust’, ‘Central Hope’ and ‘Sundance’. Is there anything online for those?”  
Your fingers are trembling, adrenaline pumping through your body and you glance nervously at the door behind you.  
You can hear tapping from the other end and what sounds like a laugh of victory.  
“What? What is it?” You ask frantically, collecting the folders together.  
David laughs again and speaks down the line. “None of them exist.”  
“What? Are you being serious right now?” You start smiling so much that you’re convinced you’re going to break your face in half.  
“He said none of them exist. Now collect those files and get out of there, I don’t want you there any longer than necessary.” Frank’s voice is stern and you glance at the multiple files laid out in front of you.  
“There’s a lot of them here.”  
“Just take as many as you can and get out.”  
You cram as many files as you can in your bag and put the rest of the useless ones away as neatly as possible, checking the floor for any leftover scraps of paper.  
“I’m leaving now, see you guys on the other side.”  
You left the room, smiling awkwardly at the guard as the door automatically lock behind you, following him to the lobby and left the building, cold wind sending your hair flying in strands behind you.  
The sky was a dark grey colour, and the wind was picking up, making you pull your coat on tighter. You felt a wave of victory come over you and fought the urge to throws your arms up in the air.  
You made your way over to your car and got in, landing on your seat with a huff of breath and thumping your bag next to you. You place both hands on the wheel and lean forward, smiling to yourself.  
“I made it out. And it’s all here baby.” You turned on your ignition and pulled out of the car parking space, stealing a glance at the files next to you.  
There were a few moments of silence before David carried on the conversation, asking if anyone was watching you or could be seen. You spent the next few minutes talking to him about the details of the mission, yet Frank remained in silence. Then he spoke up.  
“It’s too easy.” Frank’s voice echoed down the line gravely, and you swear you can hear him pacing.  
“What? None of this was easy Castle, what are you talking about.”  
You have to admit, it was very irritating he was saying this now, after you successfully completed the mission doing all of the legwork yourself. You gritted your teeth and kept driving, keeping an eye on the files next to you, as if they were to disappear at any moment.  
“I have to say... he does have a point. This all came relatively easy to us, it just landed in our lap. Something doesn’t add up here...”  
“David, you’re on his side?” You snapped, albeit you sounded rather too harsh.  
You kept an eye on your dashboard, noticing one of the signs flashing red, and pulling into the nearest gas station to fill up the tank.  
“Listen, this plan went smoothly. But it was _too_ smooth. Even you have to admit that Y/N. We have-“  
“Shut up,” you hissed, staring at the car next to you in the gas station, a black sedan.  
“Just because you’re a-“  
“No, shut up. The car next to me in the gas station has been behind me since we left the storage lock up. Do you think that’s a coincidence?” Your eyes flit nervously from your rearview mirror to the car, desperately trying to make out the drivers.  
“Hang on, I’m hacking the cameras... Frank look. They have guns.”  
You tried to start the car and started panicking when nothing happened.  
“The car won’t start. Oh my god the car won’t start.” Your pulse quickened and your breath caught in your throat and you almost choked.  
There’s a clatter from the other end of the line and Franks voice echoes as calmly as possible down the line.  
“Get out of the car and walk into the store. There’s a fire exit at the back, you can leave though there. There should be a mall directly in front of you when you leave, try and lose them there. I’m coming to get you ok? Just stay calm and get out of there _now_.”  
“Ok, ok. Got it.” Your hands are shaking, but you manage to throw the car door open and grab your bag, walking as calmly as you can to the store doors, smiling awkwardly at a lady browsing the rows of candy, walking to the back of the store and leaving through the fire exit after a tired looking employee tries to call out to you.  
You keep walking, faster and faster. Crossing the road and keeping straight ahead, getting closer to the mall doors.  
Flurries of people pass you, chattering excitedly about their day while you try not to shit yourself. The wind picks up, and you fight to push your hair back, glancing around at all the surrounding buildings and passing cars nervously.  
You can see the mall now and there’s a lot of people around, good. The more people, the better.  
The doors to the mall swiftly open, and a rush of people barrel past you, and you manage to scurry inside and blend in with the rest of the crowd.  
It’s so bright in here and you have to almost squint to see where you’re going, past sweet-smelling frozen yogurt stalls and sparkling jewellery shops, bumping into moms with kids and mumbling incoherent apologies.  
You dodge and weave through the groups clustered together and bolting up the escalator to the second floor, the sound of close by laughter makes you jump out of your skin.  
You don’t even know what you feel right now, it’s like sheer and blind panic, rushing towards any gap to squeeze through as your thoughts snowstorm in your mind.  
You follow a large group before ducking into a clothing store with rows and rows of colourful shirts.  
“Talk to me sweetheart what’s going on there.”  
You can hear the rumble of a cars engine in the background of Franks voice, and oh boy is he speeding.  
“I’m in a huge clothing store in the mall. Looking for something to blend in with.”  
You eye the employees, and they suddenly get distracted by a small child throwing up in the opposite corner of where you. You take the opportunity to grab an oversized blue coat and a pair of sunglasses. You pull the coat on and bring the hood up, pressing the sunglasses to your face, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading out.  
Eyeing everyone suspiciously, you make your way towards the back of the back of the mall to stand next to some fake plants, you glanced around the room for anyone who stood out from the crowd.  
“David where are they? What do I do next?” You hissed, shifting uncomfortably as someone shot you a strange look.  
“I have eyes on the guys, they’re on the floor below you, they got caught up in a kids birthday party or something. They’re making their way up now, head to the right of the mall, there should be a corner staircase you can get out of.”  
You move away from the fake plants you were next to and speedily walk to the stairs David refers to, bursting through the doors and speeding down the stairs, taking two at a time. You round the corner at the end and burst through the side doors, looking around the back car park for anyone.  
“Frank are you almost here?” You ask frantically, stepping quickly away from the doors and going to the dumpster bins close to you to hide behind.  
“Hang on, almost there,” he grunts, and you hear the screech of tyres from his end.  
“Ok I-“  
“Shit wait Y/N there’s another guy, a third- he’s coming up to your right.”  
You glance around, ducking behind one of the dumpsters and grabbing one of the discarded metal tubes from a clothing rack. You chuck your bag and sunglasses on the ground, pulling out your gun and shoving it in your pocket, hoping to use it as a last resort if necessary.  
“He’s a few feet to your left.”  
You can hear his footsteps, and he isn’t far away at all.  
“He’s right next to you. His back is turned, go now!”  
You spring out from behind the dumpster and attempt to clobber the guy over the back of his head, but his reactions are too quick and he turns around to grab your arms, twisting them so you have to let go of the pole.  
You barely get time to drop before he swings a punch at you, and it goes whistling above your head. You throw a punch at his gut and he reels back, giving you time to land an uppercut before diving for the pipe again.  
He grunts and shakes his head to regain his balance and you attempt to swing the pipe at him again, and he manages to jump out of the way so it only collides with his arm, and he grabs it, head butting you and tossing the pipe to the side.  
You groan in pain and clutch your forehead, and he grabs you by your hair.  
“C’mere you little shit,” he wraps his hand in your hair and you cry out in pain, grasping for his face to try and hit him, but he punches your face instead and you feel a spike of pain on the inside of your cheek.  
He then kicks the back of your leg and you fall to the floor head first to face him, a splitting pain running down your temple as a dribble of blood clouds your vision.  
He reaches for his pocket and you realise he’s going to pull out a gun, and if he does that you’re done for. So you reach for yours first.  
“Don’t move!” You shout, turning the safety off and aiming your gun at his chest, slowly getting to your feet while you gasp for breath.  
He laughs callously, his hand still hovering over his side.  
“What’re you gonna do? Shoot me? Lady, you don’t have the guts for it.” His piercing eyes and mocking words are enough for you to want to pull the trigger, but you don’t. You’re too scared.  
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” you grunt, eyes flicking from his wavering fingers to his cold-faced expression.  
The corner of his mouth turns up, and he reaches into his pocket.  
Without thinking, you shoot. Three bullets to the chest, one missing their mark and sticking into his shoulder.  
He staggers backwards, blood seeping through his shirt and dribbling out of his mouth. One leg gives out from under him and he drops to the floor, blinking furiously and gurgling.  
“Shit, shit, shit...” a voice sounds from behind you and Frank stands next to you, hand on your arm.  
“C’mon Y/N, we gotta leave. Right now. There isn’t anything you can do. Do you hear me? There isn’t anything you can do, _we have to go_.”  
You’re stood there, rooted to the spot in horror. You don’t know what the scariest part of the situation was, that someone tried to kill you or that you killed a man.  
It’s blinding, the fear you feel. And all you see is grey lights, spots of dark colour dancing in your vision. You feel light-headed, and your stance wavers, all while your eyes are glued onto the body in front of you.  
You took a mans life. There’s no going back from that. Of course he was a bad person, he tried to kill you and you were only defending youself. But he’s still a human, no matter what. A person with a mother, maybe a wife and kids, hobbies and dreams and memories. And you took that away from him in one collective group of moments.  
You’ve single handedly ruined his life, and your own life in a way. This is one scar on you mind you will not be able to forget.  
Ever.  
Maybe it’s Frank’s urgent gravelly voice that finally gets to you, maybe it’s his strong grip on your arm, maybe it’s his _eyes_ , watching you with heavy concern and fatigue.  
Whatever it is, you manage to pull yourself out of the trance, dragging your eyes from the body lying in a pool of blood in front of you to Frank’s worry lined face.  
You nod and turn around, grabbing you bag and running to the car, jumping into the passenger side and speeding off with Frank pushing the gas pedal as far as it will go.

Three hours later you’re in Frank’s house, sat on his bed in complete silence. Your eyes wander around the room, over the discarded clothing and stray guns, bullets stacked on his bedside table.  
On any other day you would chuckle about how much of a mess this is, about how ridiculous the stacks of weaponry look when they’re sat next to his deodorant. But this isn’t any other day.  
He comes back, a med kit in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He sets the kit down and takes off the cap of the water and offers it to you. Frank helps you dink, tilting your head back with his hand in your hair.  
He looks at your cuts, pushing your hair aside gently and tenderly brushing his thumb against your skin, his eyes wide with concern. He searches for your eyes, but you continue to stare at the floor, motionless.  
You don’t know what scared you most about today, the fact that you almost died or the fact you killed someone.  
“C’mon I’ll help you into the shower,” he says gruffly, moving into his bathroom to turn the water on.  
He reappears, pulling his shirt off swiftly and helping you with yours. After you’re completely naked and shivering from the cold nipping at your skin, he guides you into the shower.  
You step in, hot water running down your skin and seeping into your stinging cuts.  
Water drips off of your eyelashes and you wipe your face, holding back your tears.  
The shower door opens behind you and Frank climbs in, resting his hands on your hips and bringing his head close to brush against yours.  
His expression is sullen and he combs his hands through your hair to pull it away from your face, rinsing the clumps of dirt out, being careful to avoid touching your cuts.  
Your head rolls to the side running a hand over your bruised cheek and leaning into Frank’s chest.  
He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into him, his hands rubbing circles into your back. You choke up on your sobs, chest heaving against his.  
“Shh, shh. I got you. I got you sweetheart.”

Your sat on his bed again in his shirt, damp hair in coils down your back, and he’s patching you up.  
Frank’s doing it as gently as he can, but it still stings and you recoil every time he applies disinfectant.  
Frank is a man of many emotions, and it’s sometimes difficult to tell what he’s feeling exactly.  
But it isn’t very hard to work out that he’s worried for you. His eyes are narrow, focused on your every movement, softly brushing his hand against yours. His lips twitch anxiously when you flinch at his touch and he regards you as if you’re the most fragile creature he’s ever encountered.  
He lets out this soft sigh when he’s done, pressing a careful kiss to your unbruised cheek and moving back from you to watch your reaction.  
He continues clearing things away and you crawl under his duvet, sinking into the bed as if your whole body aches from exhaustion.  
Your head sinks into the pillow, inhaling his scent deeply and wrapping the duvet tightly around you like it would protect you from your own thoughts.  
Despite what happened, you feel safest here, in his clothes, in his bed. With Frank.  
He sits at the other side of the bed, his head in his hands. He lets out a small groan, trying his best not to attract your attention, but you notice almost immediately.  
You push the duvet off of yourself and shift over, sitting behind him to wrap your arms around his chest, burying your face in his back.  
You crane your neck to look at him, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, lost deep in thought. He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose and holds one of your hands tightly in his own.  
He shift slightly to sit facing you, a pained expression.  
“What’s wrong?” You whisper, tenderly stroking the side of his face.  
He rakes his eyes to make contact with yours, a hand resting atop your own.  
“I... you came so close to dying today, or at least being badly hurt. And I can’t help feeling like this is all my fault. I roped you into this, helped you with your investigation, let you go in there _by yourself_... I’m just... I’m not good for you. I mean, take a look at the past few moths, they’ve been nothing but complete messes where I put you in danger _over_ and _over_ and I made you feel like shit. I’m not a good person Y/N, and I’m certainly not doing you any favours. After everything I lost, you’re all I have left.”  
“Oh Frank... you’ve done nothing but _save_ me over the past few months, sure we’ve had our arguments, but doesn’t every couple? And it was my choice to do all of this, not yours. You’ve protected me countless times, and for that I’m eternally grateful, but you did nothing wrong. None of this was your fault, if anything it’s mine. I’ve been pressuring you into these situations repeatedly, and for that I’m sorry. But you must never blame yourself ok? And I’m not going anywhere either, I’m staying right here, by your side. Because you’re all I have too.”  
You smile encouragingly at him through the tears brimming in your eyes and sit closer to him to wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his chest.  
“Ok. But you’re not doing any of this shit from now on? You got that? You’re gonna call in sick at work or something, and you’re gonna lay low for a few days. With me. Alright?” He cranes his neck down to you, lifting your head up to him with his hand.  
“No problem cowboy.”


	10. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You conduct a daring mission against Frank’s wishes and land yourself in hot water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING  
> This has been one hell of a journey for me, sorry if this chapter isn’t so great, I really struggled writing it and I went wayyyyy overboard.  
> BUT, I really appreciate every single one of you, so thank you from the bottom of my heart xx

# Bittersweet

It’s been two weeks since the incident at the mall, and you haven’t stepped a foot outside of Frank’s apartment the entire time, and you’ve almost driven yourself insane.  
You can understand Frank’s need to keep you safe, but by god you were bored out of your mind and wanted to walk around somewhere that didn’t smell of gunpowder and shaving cream.  
You awoke one morning with a particularly heavy heart, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and yawning widely.  
Frank wasn’t next to you, but that wasn’t unusual, he was probably in the kitchen making coffee, or at the store down the street buying more tinned beans for you both to eat, despite the fact you’d told him you were sick of eating them.  
As you got out of bed to brush your hair, instead of hearing Frank’s footsteps pad softly around the kitchen, you heard hushed voices.  
Furrowing your brows in confusion, you pushed back the heavy duvet and tiptoed as quietly as you could towards the door and peered through the crack to see Frank and David in a heated discussion.  
David looked as tired as usual, with his wild hair, but there was something different about him that made you suspicious.  
He was waving his hands in the air, and.. was that a file? It looked to be one of Dawn’s charity files from when you’d collected it last time, you could recognise that ugly brown colour anywhere.  
Frank’s back was to you, but you could tell he was annoyed by the way he had his arms crossed and how the muscles in his shoulders bunched up tightly through his tank top.  
“C’mon we have these Frank! We have-“ David urged, waving the file back and forth in front of Frank, and he looked desperate.  
“Get those out of my face Lieberman, I’m telling you no. Do you hear me? No.” Frank pushed David’s hands away from his face, standing firmly against whatever David was arguing for.  
“Frank, I get that you want to protect her-“ David began, trying to be as understanding as possible, eyes wide.  
“I don’t think you ‘get it’ at all Lieberman. Do you have any idea what she means to me? After I lost my family right in front of my eyes, she is all I have left in this world. I have to protect her! I let myself fall in love with her, I brought her into this mess and I let her go ahead with that fucked up plan and look what it did! Look what it did to her Lieberman! How am I gonna fix this? I can’t. She trusted me and I put her danger and I will never be able to forgive myself for that. But I am not, under any circumstances, letting her go back into that company building to get whatever it is you need. I can’t, and- and I won’t. I love her too much, ok? I just... fuck...” Frank breathes heavily through his nose and throws his arms up against the wall, bracing himself against it until he can steady himself, until he can breathe normally and concentrate again.  
“I’m sorry Frank. But this isn’t just your decision. We’ll be prepared this time, we can send someone else in with her-“  
“It isn’t enough. Whatever it is you have planned, it won’t be enough to protect her.”  
“Well what do you propose we do huh? No one in our inner circle or whatever the hell you wanna call it, can go into that building apart from her. We need those codes Frank. She just has to go into Jared’s office find the codes. Then we can crack these messages on these files, in his emails, we can translate this _whole thing_ Frank. We can bring them down if she finds us those files.” David is stood completely still now, wearing a tight lipped expression as he watches Frank intensely, his eyes flickering over his face. He swallows hard and places the file on the bookshelf next to him, turning to Frank to place a hand gently on his shoulder.  
“Just think about it. Talk to her. But we need to do something quickly, otherwise those criminals will get away with it all.”  
He pulls his hand away, letting it drop to his side, jaw clenching before leaving the apartment, slamming the door behind him.  
Frank lets his hands slide off of the wall, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling before slowly dragging his hands down his face, groaning as if he was in pain.  
He checks around the room, catching a glimpse of his car keys on the dining table he reaches for them, collecting his things (along with the file) to leave.  
You stand there, frozen, unsure of what to do or what to think.  
It all rested on you.  
Whether you were ready to do it or not, you had to go in and you had to find the codes David was talking about.  
Frank stopped by the front door, turning to catch sight of the bedroom before gritting his teeth and closing it shut behind him.  
Now was your chance. If you went now, while Frank was gone, you could have the files back before Frank even returned home, and then it would all be over.  
It didn’t take long for your brain to kick into action, taking the quickest shower you’d even taken and throwing on some clothes you had stashed away in Frank’s chest of drawers.  
You were in a rush, but you had to look respectable if you wanted to fit in with everyone else at work. You brushed your hair and pulled it up into a ponytail, wincing as your hair pulled tightly at your scalp, and running into the hall to get your shoes and coat.  
A few last things were tossed into your purse, and then you were gone; out of the house and onto the street, waving a taxi over as you pulled on your sunglasses to hide your face.  
The ride over was nerve-wracking, you kept second-guessing your decision.  
_Was this the right thing to do? Is it too late to turn back? What am I even looking for?_  
Thankfully, you had been given a second phone by Frank after he smashed the first one, worried you were being tracked. He insisted on you having one, that way if he was ever out and you needed help, you could contact him.  
But he didn’t give you David’s number, and you sure as hell couldn’t remember it. You didn’t want to risk going to David’s house to ask for help either, you had a feeling Frank was already there, trying to come up with a different way of bringing the company down.  
As far as you were concerned, you may not get another chance as good as this one to go into Jared’s office, he was never in on a Sunday... and today was a Sunday.  
After paying the cab driver, you exited the car and walked closer to the Dawn Design headquarters, all this time you thought you wouldn’t come back to it.  
Entering it felt eery, like you weren’t supposed to be there. And everything seemed to look different, like the atmosphere had changed.  
Everyone was so busy walking in and out and discussing their work that they paid you no attention, so you scanned your pass calmly and walked through to the elevator.  
The air was heavy, and every breath you took felt like you were suffocating. You could feel panic setting in, but you tried your best to ignore it and push forward.  
Once inside, you repeatedly pressed the button for Jared’s office floor, praying silently that no one would join you. But they didn’t, and the doors shut smoothly.  
Breathing heavily, you leant backward to rest against the wall, squeezing your eyes tightly shut and letting the relief wash over you.  
“C’mon. You can do this. You can do this...” you murmured to yourself, willing for enough courage to get you through the next few minutes without breaking down.  
The ‘ding’ of the elevator sent a shiver down your spine and you straightened yourself up and walked forward onto the almost empty landing, letting a few employees go past you and disappear into various offices.  
Your head tilted to the right, seeing there was no one there, you continued down the hall, steadying yourself at a regular pace and keeping your eye on Jared’s office, blinds drawn by at the windows.  
Getting a keycard to his office was difficult, but not impossible.  
Joe was Jared’s assistant, with the only spare key to the office. He was some twenty-something guy who was a pretty adorable nervous wreck... with an unfortunate addiction.  
Some co-workers had been gossiping about him a while back, saying that during lunch time he spent an extra few minutes in the toilet caring for his ‘needs’.  
And it was lunch time now, meaning that any moment he would leave his office to go to the toilet for way longer than necessary, leaving you with a window to get in and steal the spare keycard.  
There would be no real need to put it back, so you didn’t have to worry too much about how much time you spent looking for the codes.  
You walked to the end of the hallway, spying into Joe’s office as you passed to see him frantically checking his clock.  
You hid around the corner at the end and waited, anxiously biting your lip until it hurt. You were a bag of frazzled nerves, expecting someone to see you and ask you what you were doing, having your whole plan ruined in a second.  
But the creak of a door made you check around the corner, and sure enough there was Joe, making his way at a speedy pace to the bathroom with his hand in his pocket.  
As soon as he was far enough away from his office, you rounded the corner and managed to catch the door before it shut properly, sneaking inside as quietly as possible.  
You rummaged around in his drawers through trash and his stash, turning your nose up in disgust at it and rummaging around some more.  
Sure enough, under a pile of important looking bills was Jared’s keycard, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be too hard to find.  
You left quickly, darting your gaze, wary of passers by before making a beeline to Jared’s office, scanning the keycard and shoving the stiff door open.  
The door gave way immediately, and you had to wobble around a bit in order to avoid toppling over onto the ground and drawing any attention.  
Once you had the door safely shut, the room was all yours.  
His whole office was extremely tidy, like it was barely used. There was a neat pack of folders filled with pictures from expensive looking room designs, all artful shots of Georgian inspired houses with clean walls and bright lamps.  
You leafed through that gently and noted the date, over four months ago. Maybe Jared didn’t use his office as much after all.  
You got to work quickly, assuming the only place the codes could be was in one of his locked drawers, so you dropped your bag to the floor and crouched next to his desk, guessing that the one you need to open is the only one with a lock.  
Rifling through your bag, you pulled out two hair pins, stretching them out and preparing to pick the lock.  
You’d seen a few videos on how to before, and had always considered it a valuable skill, waiting for the inevitable day that you forgot a key to something important.  
It took the best part of five minutes of useless fiddling and angry swear words before something felt like it was turning, and then a satisfying click sound before the drawer popped open.  
Your whole body dropped with exhaustion, a sigh of relief escaping your lips and you listened for any noise outside the office before continuing to search through the drawer.  
You took each file out one by one, scanning over them quickly, but nothing resembled anything remotely close to what you expected to be looking for.  
After every file had been removed and you sat with the empty drawer, something didn’t feel right.  
You didn’t know where else to look, and you felt short on time, and the more minutes that passed the more on edge you felt. And it wasn’t at all comfortable to deal with.  
Until you noticed a ribbon at the back of the drawer, short in length and royal blue. Tentatively, you reached for it, tugging softly until the ledge of the drawer came up to reveal a hidden space at the bottom.  
And sure enough, there lay a little black book in the centre, and you couldn’t quite believe your luck.  
As you picked it up, a sudden weight fell onto your shoulders and you realised just how important this book was to the investigation.  
It was actually terrifying, and the longer you sat there, the more agitated you became, so you put everything away in the drawer and closed it, speeding out of the room in a matter of seconds.  
The book was safely tucked into your bag, and you made your way to the elevator, tensing up every time someone passed you.  
The ride down felt extremely slow, and you anxiously tapped your foot against the floor, praying for the elevator to speed up so you could get the hell out of this godforsaken building.  
You sped through the lobby and stopped by the doors, slowing yourself as you caught a glimpse of a familiar black sedan, nervously reaching for your phone and fiddling with it as you pushed yourself out of the front doors and walked away as quickly as possible.  
So focused on the ground you smacked straight into someone, and the surprise must have been conveyed on your face because his lips curved into a dark smile.  
Jared.  
“Nice to see you Y/N. Been a while,” he said nonchalantly, gripping your arm firmly and pulling you aside. In less than a second three guards had surrounded you, escorting you towards a large car.  
“You so much as look at anyone I kill you right here and no one will know,” he states calmly, keeping his eyes focussed ahead, and all you can see is the side of his stoney face. You inhale sharply, shaking slightly as you imagine your body splayed out in some ally, crimson blood pooling around your slacked face.  
You walked with him, your blood boiling and at the same time frozen, every vein in your body pumping with fear. Every breath you took felt short, and the world blurred around you.  
They guided you into the car, windows heavily tinted so no one could see in, and you sat with your arms folded in your lap, lips tight against your teeth, the door slamming closed next to you.  
“You have stirred up quite the mess haven’t you?” He leans forward to touch your cheek and you recoil, his face contorts into anger and his lips curled into a sneer.  
“Knock her out,” he commands to the guard next to you, leaning back in his seat and stretching his arms out along the back, an evil glint in your eye that suggested that he got off on this.  
“Fuck y-“ you don’t have time to finish what you say because a sharp pain strikes your temple and you black out.

A searing pain cuts across your brow and you awaken, blinking furiously as the pain grows stronger, attempting to let your eyes adjust to the sudden bright light of the the room you’re in.  
“Jesus christ,” you groan, rolling your head to the side and squinting to try and view where you are.  
It looks like a basement, and a shitty one at that, the paint was peeling off of the walls, and the floor was concrete and the air was really, _really_ cold.  
The room was dimly lit, the only light source was a bare lightbulb, hovering directly above you.  
There were four guards scattered about, all armed to the teeth. Jared sat on a rickety looking table in the corner of the room, surrounded by shadows and you could barely make out his outline.  
You twisted your wrists, realising you were zip-tied to a chair, and they were tight too. So tight that even the slightest movement caused a burning sensation on your wrists.  
“She’s awake,” Jared comments simply, glancing at the doorway.  
You drag your eyes to the doorway to see a very tall, light-skinned woman with short, choppy red hair and a sharp gaze.  
She steps closer, her heels tapping on the floor so you can see her more clearly; she’s well-dressed in a black pantsuit, and her green eyes are piercing.  
“So she is,” she says curtly, folding her arms across her chest and watching you with an eery smile.  
And that’s when it clicked. This woman was Gillian West, the co-founder and ghost of Dawn Design that never really made any public appearances. You’d seen pictures of her online, but never met her in person, and she was terrifying.  
“Gillian West. I never thought I’d ever see you in the flesh,” you comment slyly, rolling your head to the side to raise your eyebrow, but the movement sends a shooting pain across your head.  
“Here I am, take a long look because it’ll be one of the last things you will see.” She gestures to herself grandly, her teeth glisten too brightly in the light, and everything suddenly becomes too much, but you hold yourself together with the remaining strength you have.  
“So you’re gonna kill me huh?” You gulp, sitting up straighter to hold your ground, trying to appear more confident than you actually are because deep down you’re freaking the fuck out.  
“Not before I get the information I need. We’ve done it before too, you can’t go through this industry without taking down a few people.” Gillian pulls her blazer off and tosses it at one of the guards next to her, rolling her sleeves up and making a big deal of it too. You notice the book tucked into her back pocket, displayed there like she wants you to see it. Like she wants you to know she’s won.  
“And what is the information exactly?” You know you’re playing with fire by poking the dragon, but goddamnit you’re terrified and the only logical thing is to try and act casual.  
She runs her tongue over her top lip and stands with her arms by her side, the corner of her lips turning upward.  
“I want to know who you worked with to make this all happen and where they are. You can’t have directed this little investigation all by yourself darling, you’re smart, but not that smart.” Gillian makes her way over to you and reaches out to rest her hands on your chair, her face inches from yours so that you can see every line on her face and smell her expensive perfume.  
“I don’t know what you mean.” You press your lips together and she breaths out through her nose, closing her eyes tightly shut, pulling away from you and turning your back.  
“I have to give you credit Y/N, you seem like a tough woman. But everyone breaks.” Gillian suddenly whips around, landing a punch square in your jaw, sending an intense pain through you.  
The recoil from the punch sends your head sideways, and you have un-click your jaw, swallowing hard.  
“You’re a real bitch, you know that? No wonder your husband left you all those years ago,” you mocked, turning to face her with a fire blazing in your eyes.  
Instead of reacting shocked, a wide grin spreads across her face.  
“Who said he disappeared? Husbands can become a burden, and sometimes you have to dispose of them. You could have learned that... if you didn’t get in my way.”  
She swings another punch at your face and you feel your lip split and blood trickle down your chin.  
You groan and wiped your chin on your clothes, inhaling deeply through your nose.  
Gillian straightens up and it gets to you that this woman is a legitimate psychopath, the way her eyes widen when she sees the havoc she inflicts makes her excited. It’s probably something her and Jared have in common.  
“It was you who sent those guys after me wasn’t it?” You questioned, tentatively touching your split lip with your tongue and wincing when it stings.  
“Yes. But for your information, those files are fake. We knew you were coming and we planted them. You have _nothing_.”  
Your heart drops so quickly you feel like you might pass out, and you stop breathing for a long time, feeling your entire plan fall apart in your hands.  
But the twitch of her top lip and nervous glance to the side gives you a tiny feeling of hope in your chest, and you feel a sudden burst of confidence confident.  
“No. I bet they are real, and the fact that you feel the need to lie makes me think you’re ashamed at how I got those files so damn easily. Face it Gillian, you’re entire organisation is in the shitter. Your men are so careless with security, and you continued to be cocky enough to believe you could get away with it. You’ve traded thousands of innocent people for god knows what, and for god knows how long, but your own ignorance will be the thing that fucks you over. Keep beating me Gillian, and we’ll see who’s still laughing at the end of it. Hit me you bitch, I fucking dare you,” you growled at her angrily, gnashing your teeth and bracing yourself for impact.  
Gillian’s fists curl and uncurl, one of the guards step forward and she holds her hand up to his chest, stepping forward, and you can tell you’ve struck a chord.  
Her face is almost red with fury, the veins on her forehead protruding through her skin as she snarls at you, lashing out with a series of carefully constructed punches despite her current emotion. And the punches are *hard*. Gillian waits a few moments after each one so you can soak up the pain and let it fester before she continues on her rampage.  
“Are you going to tell me who you’re working with?” She growls, stepping as close as she can to your face to stare you in the face, hoping to intimidate you as best as she could; it was working.  
You couldn’t speak, the pain in your face so intense that you couldn’t form any words, so instead you shook your head and stared at her as hard as you could, your head jerking slightly as you tried to keep consciousness.  
“Fine,” Gillian spat, standing upright and turning to the wall, swiping up the broken leg from a chair and examining it, walking closer to you.  
“Tell me who you’re working with. Tell me where the files are.” She moves her head to keep eye contact with yours, her face so stony you could barely tell she had been so enraged a few moments ago.  
You spat blood by her feet and it splattered onto her shoes, but she didn’t react.  
“Eat shit lady.” It was a bold response, and Gillian’s face twitched, but only for a moment before she took a swing for your stomach, and you heard a loud _crunch_.  
You cry out, leaning forward to try and block out the pain, but that makes it worse. Hot tears run down your face and you squeeze your eyes tightly shut.  
She grabs your chin and jerks your head upward, staring at you.  
“Tell me,” she demands, and you shake your head again, and for some reason you smile, blood trickling from your split lip again to stick to her fingers.  
Gillian doesn’t hold back, and you haven’t a clue how you’ve lasted so long without saying anything, but Frank’s face keeps popping up in your mind, over and over.  
You holding him close on stormy nights, him kissing you, cradling you as you cry into his arms and then finally, you imagine a life far away from this one, quiet and calm. With home cooked meals and trips to the cinema and kisses on cold nights.  
And it’s the only thing keeping you going.  
The pain is so bad by the end of it, you’re doubled over choking on your own blood, the metallic taste was so overwhelming that you wanted to be sick.  
Every place on your face ached so intensely, and you could feel the sticky wetness of blood against your neck, seeping its way into your clothes.  
Jared hops off on his desk and strides over to Gillian, taking her aside to talk to her for a moment before walking to you. He leans forward to rest his hands on the sides of the chair, staring intensely at you with his piercing blue eyes.  
“Do everyone a fucking favour sweetheart and just tell us what we want to know.”  
His voice is hushed, like he doesn’t want Gillian to hear him.  
You chuckled, trying hard not to cough up your blood.  
“Or what? You gonna hit me? You dont strike me as the type of person do do any dirty work Jared. Your boss is more hands on,” you sneer and his face becomes stormy.  
“You little shit-“ before he can finish speaking you head butt him, and immediately regret that decision, the added pain to your forehead makes you want to cry out, but you don’t.  
Jared jumps back, his hand rushing to his face and spluttering a string on curse words, and you can see you’ve split his skin above his eyebrow, you’re not even entirely sure how hard you hit him, everything hurts so intensely that it all feels numb at this point.  
“Fuck! Fuck that fucking hurt you son of a bitch.“ Jared presses his hand to his face, examining the blood from his cut and glaring at you. “I swear, I’ll make you pay for-“  
A sudden set of shots rings out somewhere close by and everyone whips around in shock, Gillian tenses up, glaring at the guards.  
“What the hell is that?” She yells, directing her anger towards the people closest to her. “Do you idiots not know how to control your own weapons?”  
The guard radios to his buddy and frantically calls out his name, and there’s no response and he looks at Gillian guiltily.  
In your mind, you connect the dots, a small smile appearing on your face as you imagine Frank wreaking havoc on Gillian’s men. It would have to be the answer, her men wouldn’t just fire off shots, they aren’t that stupid.  
Gillian catches your expression and storms over to you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling it back so hard you feel clumps of it rip out.  
“Who is there? Who did you send?” She demands, eyes blazing with fury as she grits her teeth.  
You laugh coarsely, spitting blood onto her face and grinning as she wipes it off with intense disgust.  
“The punisher.”  
Her eyes grow wide and steps back, going for the door at the opposite end of the room, but she only steps forward three paces because Frank kicks the door down and shoots the guards standing around immediately, before they have time to even draw their weapons.  
He focuses on Gillian, glancing around, and Jared is long gone.  
Franks gaze wanders to you and all of your bloody glory and his eyes convey a sharp look of fear and utter worry.  
“Fucking christ,” he mumbles softly, stepping closer to you with his bottom lip quivering slightly.  
“Hey baby,” you chuckle, you can’t help but laugh at this situation, and the immense pain you’re in makes everything seem so fuzzy and distant.  
“She did this to you?” He growls, motioning to Gillian, who was standing stock still with a hateful expression.  
“Yes... but Frank don’t kill her. Frank, please don’t kill her. She has the codes I-we need. They’re in her back pocket, a little black book. If we translate the transactions and emails then we can throw her in jail,” you plead with him, begging with your eyes.  
“But she did all that shit to you Y/N.” His eyes grow wide and his lips softly mouth words, but not quite speaking. “God, look at your face. She has to-“  
“No Frank. Listen to me, listen to my voice. I’m fine, ok? I’m a little banged up, sure, but it’s nothing a few weeks can’t heal. Let her live and we can get her locked up. I’m begging you Frank, please. Please...” you trail off and see his face soften slightly at the way you say ‘please’, and his lips twitch angrily as he weighs up his choices.  
Frank strides over to her, staring directly into Gillian’s eyes before smacking her over the back of the head.  
He runs over to you, dropping his weapons and untying your hand, rushing back to you to cradling your face in his hands gently. His eyes widen with distress, he tries to say something but all that comes out is soft whispers, his lips shaping words, then falling silent.  
“Hey, hey, I’m ok. I’m ok,” you assure him, resting your shaking hands on top of his, and he lets out a pained whine, embracing you as gently as he could.  
And then you black out.

Incessant beeping wakes you slowly, and you blink a few times to see where you are, staring at everything in confusion.  
You’re in a hospital bed, the room is dim, but in a pleasant way, more relaxing and you immediately feel at ease.  
The windows show the outside world coated in a layer of darkness, and the slow rumble of passing cars is soothing. It’s unusually quiet for a hospital, but you’re very thankful for the peace.  
You’re hooked up to a monitor, and fluffy pillows surround you, propping you awards and you can feel a tinge of pain in your side, but it’s much more subdued.  
Your eyes adjust to the room, and you blink away the fogginess in your vision to see Frank.  
He’s sat in a chair as close as he can be to your bed, fast asleep with his face smushed against his hand, his head wobbling back and forth.  
He grunts a few times in his sleep, murmuring incoherent things. He looks strangely peaceful, blissfully unaware of the world and it might be the first time you’ve seen him sleep properly since the incident at the mall.  
Under a pile of books by your nightstand is a hand mirror, and you reach for it tentatively, sweeping the books off and staring hard at your own reflection, gasping at the sight of your own face.  
The bruises are purple and huge, your skin is puffy around the cuts that are now stitched up, and your eyes are bloodshot. You almost want to cry at seeing yourself looking like this, but you manage to hold yourself together.  
You put the mirror down and attempt to get more comfortable, you try to shuffle further down the bed, but you strain a muscle in your side, and you cry out softly.  
Frank wakes slowly, taking in a small breath and worriedly glancing around the room before his eyes fall back to you.  
And the way he stares at you, like he’s staring at your soul with every tough exterior pulled away, and all you want is to feel is his touch. To be reassured that you’re fine.  
“What’re you doing?” He leans closer to the bed to take your hand in his as gently as he can running his fingers over the scrapes on your skin, eyes wandering over your face with pity.  
“I’m tryna move but I think that was a mistake because it feels like I’ve been stabbed,” you grunt, letting your body relax under his gentle grip.  
“You’ve been in and out for hours. You have a couple of broken ribs, some stitches, a heavy concussion and you look like shit. Apart from that you’re good,” he jokes, but the darkness behind his expression makes you realise just how worried he must’ve been, dark circles weighed heavily underneath his eyes.  
“Fuck I think I blacked out at some point. What happened?” You turned your head to see his face as it fell, the hard lines setting in and his eyebrows knitted together before turning his face to the ground.  
“What happened is that you scared me Y/N. You scared the shit outta me,” he murmurs in thought, pulling his head up slowly so that you can see the pain that shone in his eyes as they water.  
Your stomach drops, air escaping your lungs as you realise just how much you would have put Frank through, and how completely unfair it was of you. How much of a fucking idiot you were to do that to a man like Frank that had experienced enough loss as it was without you adding to it.  
You felt like a bitch, and the way his hand gripped yours even tighter than before made you want to burst into tears and beg for his forgiveness.  
“Why did you do it? Why did you go?” His voice cracks and your heart breaks more than it already has done, a dull ache in your chest weighs heavily on you.  
“I thought... I thought that I could fix this and we could live a normal life together. I never expected any of this to happen Frank. I’m just so, so, so sorry I ever did that to you, I’m a shitty human and I can never forgive myself for-“  
“Stop, just stop,” he says exasperatedly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed to rest his other hand on your leg, staring at the bedding with he clenches his jaw and you wait for him to continue.  
“I’m not mad at you for going. I’m mad at you for doing it alone. I’m mad because you felt like the only way to finish this was by yourself, without asking me for help or planning or anything. And I know I’m not one to talk but... I thought you’d learn from my mistakes and not repeat them. You could have died. I don’t know if you know that Y/N. If I hadn’t gotten Lieberman to track your phone.... I don’t even want to think about you...” he stops, his eyes on yours, face falling into an expression so tragically painful that it makes you start crying.  
“Frank I-“ your voice cracks and he holds up his hand, motioning for your to be quiet, and you do as he asks, falling silent with a strained expression. He wipes your tears and smiles reassuringly at you.  
“I can’t do anything about it now. But I will say that although you were a complete fucking idiot who almost made me shit my pants in fear; you are the strongest woman I know. And I can say that with confidence. But you are not allowed, under any circumstances, to ever get involved in something like this again. You got it?” He’s smiling at you, a kind of playfulness that makes you smile like a fool too.  
“I don’t know Franky, I kind of enjoyed this whole thing. Maybe we can do it again next week?” You tease and he glares at you. “Joking. I’m joking.”  
He lets out a sigh of relief and tightens his grip on your hand.  
“Good, because I might have to handcuff us together if you try and do this shit again.”  
You grin widely. “Kinky.”  
Frank opens and shuts his mouth, the corners of his lips twitch as he tries not to laugh.  
A knock sounds from the door and Sara and David enter slowly, looking curiously around the room before stopping to look at your face.  
“Oh honey,” Sara consoled, sitting at the other side of the bed and staring at you with pity. David placed a vase of flowers on the bedside table and stood behind Frank with a hand on his shoulder.  
“Ah it’s not that bad. I’ve seen him look worse anyway,” you joked, jutting your thumb in the direction of Frank and he nods with a forlorn expression.  
“Well, anything we can do, just tell us. Ok? We’re here for you.” Sara pats your hand encouragingly, her red hair falling over her pale face and you are so thankful to have her as a friend. Her and David both.  
“What happened? Did you translate the files? Where’s Gillian? Where’s Jared?” All these questions resurfaced in your mind and the three of them exchange some powerful looks.  
David speaks for them, standing taller and clearing his throat.  
“Jared was arrested two hours ago, and Gillian’s in holding. We translated the files you found in the storage locker, they link Jared and Gillian to everything. The whole operation was uncovered, you did it. You did it all Y/N. Madani’s taking the case, she says there’s enough evidence for both of them to go to court if you testify against-“  
“I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to bring them down, I’ll do it.” You sit up, drawing in a breath and eyeing everyone as they glanced around unknowingly.  
“Are you sure sweetheart? I mean, after everything you went through...” Sara watched you with uncertainty, and you appreciated her worry for you, but it had to be done.  
“I’m sure. I want to be there to watch these guys burn for what they’ve done.” You felt your eye blazing and your fingers twitch anxiously and Frank kisses your knuckles softly.  
“And we’ll be right there with you,” Frank comments, smiling at you as reassuringly as he can.  
David and Sara nod in agreement, and your eyes fill with tears, so appreciative of the dear friends you have.

Two weeks pass and Madani manages to get the trials pushed forward, and it’s huge news story. Every time you journey to the courthouse, you get bombarded with the press, all frequently asking a quote from you.  
But every time Frank quickly escorts you indoors with an arm around your shoulder, protecting you from them.  
You would sit with Sara and David, they would nod at you with prompting looks and you would sit with your fingers intertwined with Frank’s, leaning into his shoulder.  
And when you were called to the stand, you stood tall and walked with confidence, despite the raging storm of fear and anxious desperation to leave inside you.  
In the stand you sat straight, wringing your hands in your lap as you recounted your story, looking Jared or Gillian straight in the face and trying so hard to not let your voice waver or crack.  
But you did it, and you did it displaying your fading scars with pride. And Frank would hold you close when you finished and whisper words of encouragement in your ear.  
Then, a few months later, they find Gillian and Jared guilty, and their whole behind-the-scenes organisation was uncovered. Including over six counts of first degree murder, and they get sent to jail for life, narrowly escaping the death penalty. You’re thankful for it too, they got what they deserved.

**Six months later**  
In a new apartment in outskirts of New York, you stand in your kitchen, bathed in yellow light, rifling through your fridge for something to drink. Preferably alcoholic.  
So far the only thing you can find is Frank’s beer and orange juice. You decide on the beer, bringing out two bottles to set out on your marble countertops, the clink of the glass ringing out.  
When you first moved in, it had taken a little while for you to adjust to the new surroundings of stark walls and echoed rooms. It had taken even longer to unpack, every box seemed to have an unlimited amount of stuff inside, and it was difficult to get started on.   
Now, you had a lot more spare time, not having a job and everything. It was nice, to have time for yourself, to focus on your wellbeing for once, and Frank’s of course.   
Since the case had been closed and your old bosses sent to jail, you had weekly sessions with a therapist and started taking yoga. It didn’t do much at first, but after a while it became soothing to do these things, and was often something you looked forward to.   
It took time, and some much needed care from Frank and your friends, but after a while you could bare life and didn’t feel as depressed or panicked. It was a hard fucking battle for sure, and was not easy by any means, but the outcome made it all worth it.   
You fought your fears for a life with Frank and it was so, so worth it.   
You popped the cap off of the beer and took a swig, recoiling in disgust at the taste. Bottle in hand, you stepped backwards to eye Frank through the doorway in the living room, sprawled out on the sofa watching the TV as the light bounced of off his hard-set face.   
“Hey Frank.” He barely lifted his head to look at you, so engrossed in the television, eyes flitting quickly over to you before taking up their previous place to stare at the TV so more.   
“What?” He grunted, lifting up and arm to rest behind his head, stretching his already tight shirt in a way that made your mouth water.   
“Your beer tastes like ass,” you comment with a smirk, and Frank snickers, a wonderful smile spreading across his face.   
“Sorry darlin’, didn’t know you were such an avid beer critic. I don’t hear you usually complain about the alcohol I buy,” he teases, looking with longing at you, his eyes crinkling up in a way that makes you smile more.   
“I am when it tastes like this. Where did you buy this crap?” You poured the liquid down the sink, Frank doesn’t even try and stop you. Sly bastard probably knew how bad it tasted, and was just waiting for you to drink it.   
“Shop down the street. The one with the never ending half price sales.” He heaves himself off the sofa and pads over to you, wrapping his big arms around your waist and nuzzling your hair as you giggle.   
“I told you to stop buying stuff from there, the people look shady and I don’t trust ‘em.” You turn around to face him, hands on his chest as his eyes trail lovingly over your features, one hand on your hip and the other wrapped in your hair.   
“They’re just stoners, you haven’t got anything to worry about. And I promise not to go there again if it makes you happy... in the meantime we have this.”   
He grins at you and reaches for the cupboard behind you, retrieving a bottle of coconut rum and placing it next to the coca cola on the counter.   
“Rum and coke. I like it.” You bit your lip and tilted your head to look at him. “Why are you so good to me?” You ran your fingers along the lining of his shirt and he half-smiles, leaning down to brush his face against yours.   
“Because I love you.” He gives you a quick kiss, swiftly moving away from you to pour the drinks, and throwing you a grin. “We can watch that old movie you love so much if you want to watch it now.”   
You get all excited, smiling widely at him and placing your hands on your hips.   
“Last time we watched it you said it was boring.”   
“Well, I’m willing to give it a second chance. And you like it so... I’ll watch it.” He shrugs simply, a glint in his eye and he hands you your drink, taking a sip of his.  
“I didn’t know it was possible to love you more than I already did, but here we are.” You clinked your glass against his, and take a sip, keeping your eyes on his.  
“Me neither. I thought you would have ended up punching me at this point in our relationship, turns out your just head over heels in love with me,” he teases, leaning towards you with a smirk, and you grasp his jaw with a giggle.  
“Go sit down before I do punch you to stop your ego from inflating any further.” You push gently at his chest, making him sway to the side with a grin.  
“Yes ma’am.” He nods curtly, moving past you so that his shoulder brushes gently against you, and you hated him for him making you feel this way.  
While you watch the movie, you rest your head on Frank’s lap, the rum giving you a pleasant buzz at the base of your skull and bringing a rosy colour to your cheeks.  
It’s warm in your living room, made warmer by the blankets you’re swaddled up in, and the aroma of vanilla from your candles is calming.  
Frank combs through your hair gently, curling locks of it around his fingers, and the lulling movement makes your eyelids droop shut every few seconds, and you smile softly.   
“You alright baby?” He murmurs, and you open your eyes and turn to him, resting your hand on his jaw with a dreamy look on your face.   
“I’m really good. I’m really, _really_ good,” you reply, and he grins with the same grin that you fell in love with. “Hey, maybe we should call it a night.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, brushing a wisp of hair out of your face.  
“That is probably a wise idea cowboy.”   
He helps you off of his lap, pressing more kisses to the side of your face as you wobble to your bedroom and Frank locks up for the night.  
The door to your bedroom is ajar, and you stumble in, chuckling as you do and switching on the light, squinting to see through the brightness.  
You stop on the wooden floor, regaining your balance with a hand to your head and suddenly realise how warm you are, stripping off down to your underwear, yet still unsatisfied with the temperature.  
A lightbulb goes off in your brain and you stride to the wall to pop open a window and feel the cooling breeze against your face, thinking that maybe you had a little too much to drink.  
“What’re you doing?”   
You turn to see Frank leant against the doorway with a shit-eating grin, drinking in your appearance with way too much enjoyment.  
You placed your hand on your hips and changed your stance, locks of your hair curling down the side of your face to rest on your chest, with the full knowledge that you looked really good with the glow of streetlight on your skin.  
“Cooling down Castle. It’s hot in here and I think I had a little more to drink than I thought.”  
He pushed himself of off the wall and stripped off his shirt and jeans, turning the light off so that only the glow from outside illuminated anything.  
“Come to bed sweetheart.” Frank slid onto bed, beckoning for you to come closer, and you followed his order with a nod.  
You sank into his embrace, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, tightening his grip around you as if he would never let go. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut and breathed in the scent of his shaving foam and basked in the unique heat of his touch with a sigh of relief.  
The sounds of the city drifted through the crack of the window, calming your even further. Your heartbeat slowed, listening to the soft rumble of passing cars and faint music in the distance.  
“I love you Frank,” you murmured against his skin, your voice breathy and soft. You felt him tense up and then relax, tilting your head up to see his relaxed face staring back at you with tender love, a gentle smile playing at his lips.  
“I love you too.”  
And you knew, in that moment, that you wanted nothing more than him for the rest of your life.   
And he wanted you too.


End file.
